Stowaway
by jmr27
Summary: Sam and Dean discover that the stowaway in their trunk is Sam's daughter, who has run away from home after her mother's death and is determined to meet the father she never knew. Now, the Winchesters have to figure out how she fits into their lives-if she fits at all.
1. The Body in the Trunk

**This is set in season eleven, and will connect with specific episodes but will have no connection with the over-arching plot about the Darkness.**

 **The Body in the Trunk**

The road stretched in front of him, a black line of asphalt striped with yellow. Dean knew the sight better than the back of his own hand. It didn't matter which road he was on, they were all the same. An endless stretch of black.

The road could take him anywhere. Every road was connected. Every back-road, every gravel drive, ever interstate and suburban cul-de-sac. The road connected everything like a giant web. They had different names and numbers, some were well-paved and others full of potholes. But in the end, there was only one road. A continuous lane just the right size for a car that connected every place. On the road, Dean had no boundaries except the ocean.

This particular stretch of road twisted through the rock and trees of Appalachia. The sun was high, the sky clear, and the asphalt dry. It was a perfect day for a drive. The Impala purred as she glided around the curves, churned up hills, and soared down them again. These mountain roads were nature's roller-coaster. Dean let his arm hang out the window to catch the breeze. There was no better joy than the drive.

He leaned the wheel into a curve, and frowned at the pull against his wrist. That shouldn't happen. But it had been there, ever since the last gas stop twenty miles back. The quality of their turns had changed.

Something was wrong. It was a small feeling, but Dean's mechanic mind knew that the smallest things could bring his Baby to a grinding halt. He slowed the engine and turned off the music to listen. Nothing; there was no knocking, ticking, growling, or any other sound that would indicate a problem with the engine.

Sam raised an eyebrow and turned from his book to stare questioningly at his brother. Dean weaved across the road, feeling the weight of the car as she moved. He listened again.

"Dean!" Sam snapped his book shut and glared at his brother.

"Did you put a body in the trunk that I don't know about?"

Sam stared, mouth hanging open like a fish. "What?"

"A body, in the trunk. The Impala is heavier than she should be, she isn't handling right. Well, she's handling like there's a body in the trunk. But that hunt was a salt and burn, we didn't haul any bodies. Unless there's something you're not telling me." Dean spared a glance for his brother. His face was scrunched, trying to sort out Dean's logic.

"You can tell there's a body in the trunk just by driving?"

"I've been driving this car since I was eight, Sam. I know when something is off."

"Off, sure, but a body?" Sam asked. "How do you figure? What if I put a box of books back there."

"That would only be half the weight."

"Two boxes."

Dean shook his head. "No, it's shifting around too much."

"Dean, there's nothing in the trunk. All we did was get gas and a box of fried chicken."

"Sammy, I'm tell you, there's something in the trunk." Dean pressed on the gas, feeling the car accelerate under him, feeling the trunk drag. He pointed to the gas meter on the dash. "We're burning fuel faster than we should."

"Maybe there's something wrong with the engine." Sam shrank back against the window under the full force of Dean's glare. He should know better than to say such things. "What? It happens, it's an old car."

"I check the engine every week, Sam. There's nothing wrong under the hood. There is something in the trunk that I didn't put in there."

"Well I didn't put anything in the trunk."

"Exactly. So how did it get back there?"

"Dean, there's nothing in the-"

Dean jerked the Impala hard across the empty road and back into the proper lane again. The vehicle rocked, there was a thump, and a small squeal exited the back seat. Sam jumped and turned to stare.

"Um-yeah, I think there's something in the trunk."

"Somebody in the trunk," Dean corrected, easing off onto the shoulder. Dead bodies didn't squeal. Whatever was in the trunk had gotten in there on its own power. He checked his gun before stepping around to the back of the car. Sam came to stand behind him, gun pointed at the tail lights.

"Why would someone be in our trunk?" Sam asked, staring at the black surface.

Dean shook his head. "No idea." He counted down from three on his fingers and lifted the lid. A pair of wide brown eyes stared up at him, the same expression Dean had seen a thousand times on his brother's face. Dean slammed the trunk shut again. There was another squeal, but Dean didn't care. He turned to Sam. His brother stood where he had left him. So what were his puppy-eyes doing in the trunk?

"It's a girl," Sam said, face flinching in surprise. He dropped the angle of his gun, but didn't lower the weapon. "Um-maybe you should open it again?"

Slowly, Dean raised the lid. Yes, it was a girl. A teenager with short-cropped brown hair wearing beat-up denim, clutching her backpack in one hand and a Twizzler in the other. She couldn't be more than sixteen. She stared up at them with those wide eyes, mouth hanging open. Dean glanced up and down the road, but it was empty. Good, no one would ask uncomfortable questions if she decided to scream.

"Please don't kill me!" She ducked behind her over-stuffed backpack, bending her long limbs until she was nearly completely hidden behind the luggage.

"Well, now, that depends."

She peered around the backpack. "Depends on what?"

Sam pulled a flash out of his pocket and splashed water in her face. The girl was too busy blinking and sputtering to see Dean come at her with a silver knife. She yelped when he nicked her arm.

"Hey!" She ripped her arm out of his grasp, grabbed her backpack, and scrambled out of the trunk. Sam caught her in his long arms and brought the full force of his big brown eyes to bear on her. It was the soft, sensitive, you-don't-have-to-be-scared-of-me face. The one that had charmed many a reluctant witness.

"It's ok, we're not going to hurt you."

The girl put a hand over the cut on her arm and looked up at him with big, brown, reproachful eyes. It was classic Sam why-would-you-do-that-to-me. Except it wasn't in Sam's face. Dean felt something squirm in his guts, a silent alarm that he knew what was going on here. Even if he didn't want to admit it yet.

Dean wiped his silver knife clean and returned it to his pocket. "Look, I'm sorry about that, but I had to be sure."

"Be sure of what?"

Explaining that was not going to help this conversation. If nothing else, she was a runaway on her own on an unsafe road. If she ran away from them, who knew what kind of scum might pick her up. No. There was no debate here. They had to look after this kid until she was safely in the custody of a responsible and reliable adult.

"Look, kid. What are you doing in there?" Dean gestured to the trunk.

The girl looked down at her surroundings, and the tears welled up again. They filled her eyes slowly, the levels rising until they spilled down her cheeks in a steady stream. Dean passed the job of calming her on to Sam with a look. Sam settled on the edge of the trunk, hunching his shoulders to make himself look smaller.

"It's ok, you can tell us."

"I was just trying to get a ride."

"Where to?" Sam asked softly.

"I'm looking for someone."

No, no, no, Dean's insides screamed. There was only one place this could go. After so many years on the road, he'd always known it was possible. He just never expected it to slap him in the face like this.

"Who?"

The girl swallowed hard and looked away.

"Why hop in the trunk instead of sticking your thumb out on the side of the road like a normal hitchhiker?" Dean asked.

The girl wiped the tears from her eyes, and considered him for a moment before answering. "I couldn't get a ride." That little twitch in her lips before she spoke gave away the lie. Dean had seen it before many times.

"Try again." Dean leaned in, letting her feel the weight of his presence. "Why ride in our trunk?"

"I wanted to make sure you weren't creepy serial killers or something." She eyed them both and shifted uncomfortably. "But if you are, that's totally ok. I'll just find another ride."

This time Dean held out his hand to stop her. "This isn't a very safe stretch of road. You don't want to hitch a ride around here, you don't know who could pick you up. And I'm guessing you haven't really done this kind of thing before."

She glared back at him. "If I haven't, how would you know? You don't know me at all."

"You don't have the look. Come on." Dean opened the back passenger door. "You can ride with us until the next stop. Ok? Unless you prefer the trunk?"

The girl shook her head, scooped up her bag, and ducked into the back seat. Dean shut the door, and made sure he heard the click that said it was latched properly. She wasn't going anywhere until they let her out.

Sam raised his eyebrows, but didn't question his brother's decision. He knew the dangers of the road, and he could see the same thing Dean could. Clean clothes, well-fed, desperate but without the confidence that came from to much time spent on her own. This girl was on her first solo trip, and the road wasn't safe for her alone.

So Dean started up the engine again and drove, occasionally glancing back at the puppy-dog eyes that stared at him in the rearview mirror from the back seat.

 **Next up: what does Sam think of their strange stowaway? Where is she from and why choose the Winchester's trunk?**


	2. The Girl in the Polaroid

**Thanks for all of your lovely reviews! I hope you enjoy the next bit.**

 **The Girl in the Polaroid**

Dean was good at remembering things. As much as he tried to convince their grade-school teachers that he wasn't paying attention, Dean couldn't help but learn. His mind was like a steel trap, and Sam knew it. His big brother was every bit as smart as him, and twice as cunning. He remembered how to kill every monster they had ever come across, no matter that it was ten years since they had seen one before. He remembered the name of every girl he had ever slept with. He remembered to clean the guns every week, and he remembered to check the Impala's engine at every motel. Dean didn't forget important things.

So he hadn't forgotten to ask the girl's name. Sam glanced between the tense set of his brother's shoulders in the front seat, and the wide brown eyes staring at him from the back. Dean hadn't asked her name, and he'd done it on purpose.

But why? Something about this girl had unsettled Dean. He was shifting in his seat and keeping an eye on the rearview mirror. He wouldn't bother if he thought she was just another runaway.

Sam turned to the back seat and found the eager face staring at him, eyes wide and round, as if he were her favorite movie star. She didn't look properly scared of the strange men with guns, and that unsettled Sam. Because she should be a bit more nervous. Unless she was just that desperate. What was she running from?

She was skinny, all arms and legs, but that wasn't unusual for a teenager in a growth spurt. Sam remembered the feeling. She didn't look underfed, but there were dark circles under her eyes, and they had a gaunt look. Not starved for food, but for something else.

Something had sent her into their trunk, but how to get her to tell them? Start small. Maybe that was why Dean had neglected to ask her name; to make Sam do it, and start up a conversation. If he could get her talking, they could get information. If she was running from someone or something dangerous, they sooner they knew, the better.

She could just be a normal teenager, unhappy at home but with nothing dangerous trying to kill her. What were the odds?

"So, I'm Sam. What's your name."

"Sam. You're Sam." She repeated the name and bounced, a smile filling her face. He waited, and she was suddenly still. "Oh. I'm-I'm Gwen-." She paused, as if there was more to say, but nothing came out.

"Gwen." Sam held out his hand to shake hers. It was small and delicate in his large palm. "Nice to meet you. What are you reading?" He nodded to the edge of a book sticking out of her backpack.

She pulled the book out with a fond smile. "This? Jane Eyre."

It wasn't a book Sam had ever read, but at least it didn't include sparkling vampires, which seemed typical for most girls her age. Gwen flipped open the pages and buried her nose behind the cover, a silent plea that he not ask any more questions. Sam sighed, but turned away and went back to his own book.

The hairs on Sam's neck prickled. He glanced back, in time to see Gwen's eyes dart back to her book. She had been staring. Dean was staring. Now Sam was staring. They were all trying to stare at each other without being seen, a dance of glances through the rearview mirror, which saw it all and laughed silently. Sam pursed his lips, shook his head, and tried to focus back on Oliver Twist.

Dean put on a soft rock station, and it wasn't long before soft snores filtered from the back seat. Jane Eyre dropped to the floor with a soft thump. Gwen was asleep. She had curled into a ball, head on her knees. Sam hadn't realized how tense she was until she relaxed.

"This girl is in some kind of trouble, Dean. We can't just dump her at the next gas station."

"Nope." Dean eased the car back onto the shoulder and opened the back door as quietly as possible. He pulled the girl's backpack out of her grip, careful not to jostle or wake her.

"Hey!" Sam's voice was a hissed whisper. "What are you doing?"

"Going through her stuff." Dean unzipped the backpack and rifled through the clothes until he found something with more substance. He handed Sam a notebook while he claimed the wallet.

"Yeah, I see that, but-" Sam stared at the notebook in his hands. PRIVATE was written in large, curly red letters on the front. He was pretty sure it violated some kind of sacred code to open it. He could hear teenage girls everywhere raising their voices in one angry chorus against intrusive parents.

"Aren't you curious?"

"Well, yeah but.."

"Gwen Torres. Seventeen." Dean read the driver's license. "Huh, older than I thought. Oh-here we go!" Dean held up a Polaroid photograph as if he'd found the holy grail, but from this angle the black back was all Sam could see.

"Seriously, Dean! Put it back." Sam ran his hand over the notebook. What secrets did it hide? His fingers caught on a page sticking out the side. The slip of paper slid free. Sam stared, a sick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

"Nope." Dean waggled the Polaroid at Sam. He was puffed up, as if sitting on a secret and waiting just to tell. "Take a look Sammy. Anyone you recognize?"

Sam didn't look up. He was caught by the small paper in his hand. Four simple words printed in black above a small cross. In Memoriam: Gina Torres.

Gina. It had to be her. Sam had known only one girl by that name, a long time ago in Ohio. According to the funeral notice, it was the right town, and she was the right age. So. That was why the girl in the back seat looked familiar.

Sam's stomach wrenched. "Dean. I think Gwen's mom is dead."

Dean lowered the photograph and his smug smile curved down into a frown. "Oh?" He looked at the funeral notice. "Well, that explains why she's on her own."

"No, it doesn't. It says she has a grandmother. And she's from Ohio. What is she doing out here in Virginia?"

"She's here looking for you." All the playfulness was gone from Dean's tone now. He flipped the photograph around for Sam. A young face grinned back at him; his face, hopeful and carefree, topped by a mess of shaggy hair. He had his arm wrapped around a girl with dark hair and eyes. Under the photo, on the white plastic frame, was written his name and the Impala's old license plate number. KAZ 2Y5.

"So," Dean said, pinning Sam with his eyes. "Want to tell me about Gina?"

"Gina." Sam's mouth felt numb, his tongue clumsy over the name. How to explain Gina? He shrugged. "She was just a girl I knew in high school."

"A girl you _knew_." Dean leaned into the last word meaningfully and gave Sam a stern look. "I thought we had the safe sex talk, Sam."

"What? I-how did you-" How did Dean always know?

Dean nodded toward the Impala's back seat. Sam glanced at Gwen, then back to his brother. The meaning was clear. She was the right age.

"No." The word was more a reflex than anything. A desperate hope. Because they both knew they couldn't have children-shouldn't-have children. Not with their line of work. Dad had tried to keep Adam out of it, but still he had paid the price of being born a Winchester. Which was why Sam was always careful. At least, he had been since Stanford.

Sam had known Gina long before Stanford, long before Yellow Eyes, long before he knew to worry about such things.

"She can't-we-I-" His thoughts refused to assemble into anything coherent. _Please, don't let this be true_. "No."

"Yeah, Sammy. I think so." Dean was looking at the girl now, his face thoughtful.

"What makes you so sure?"

Dean snorted. "Have you seen you?" There was no questioning, no waffling in Dean's stance. He'd already decided.

Sam stared at the sleeping figure, and ran his hand through his hair. "Do you really think-?"

Dean pulled a hair brush out of the back-pack, then pulled a hair off Sam's scalp with a sharp tug. "Let's find out."

 **How did Gwen find Sam and Dean? What does she know about the kid her mother knew in high school? What will she think when she learns they are hunters? More to come soon!**

 **Please Review! Thanks for reading.**


	3. The Discovery at the Pit Stop

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! You are amazing. Hope you like this next installment.**

 **Pit Stop**

 _I found him_. The thought twisted through Gwen's dreams, a stream of warm fuzzies that soothed her nightmares and let her sleep. Real, deep sleep, for the first time since-well, for a while. When she woke, the car had stopped and Sam-her dad-was gone. The other one was there instead-her uncle-what was his name again?

She hadn't expected an uncle. He was thick and gruff, but didn't seem dangerous. Even after he had cut her with a knife. Which was weird, like something out of a book. Checking to see if she had red blood? Instead of what? Were these men insane? They had some strange drawings inside the trunk. But they had let her sit in the back seat, and now, Uncle Dean promised to feed her. He took her to the cleanest restaurant at the pit-stop, and told her to order whatever she wanted. Her stomach was far too empty to refuse, though the little voice in the back of her head said that most people, smart people, would bow out now. Leave and never look back.

But she didn't have anywhere else to go. And this was her dad. No matter what he was, he was her family. She felt the knots in her stomach slide away when he returned. He nodded to his brother, and she got the feeling they were talking without saying anything. Dean slid Sam a salad with a slight wrinkle of his nose. The same one he had made when she ordered falafels.

His own burger was tick enough for three people and piled with bacon and cheese. Yuck. But she wasn't here for him. Her eyes were fixed on Sam.

Her dad.

She'd dreamed about this moment for years. She'd wondered about everything from his favorite music to what kind of toothpaste he used. And of course, what he would say when he met her. When he realized who she was, he would wrap her in his arms and promise not to miss out on any more of her life. He'd missed too much already.

That was how it went in her dreams. But that couldn't happen until he knew who she was. She couldn't be mad at him for not knowing. Her mother had never told him, and made sure Gwen knew it wasn't Sam's fault that he wasn't around to be a dad. Which left it up to her to tell him.

How did she say it?

Would they believe her when she did?

She'd been waiting for this for sooo long, but now her voice was gone. She couldn't find the words. A miracle, her grandmother would say. Gwen frowned at the thought, and excused herself to find a bathroom. No need to think about grandma. She had her dad.

The idea still tickled her with a warm, fuzzy glow. Finally, something was going right. _Home, let me go home. Home is wherever I'm with you_. She hummed the lyrics, and smiled. She didn't need to be in her house in Jackson. She had her dad, and home would be with him now. Her reflection smiled back at her in the mirror, and she opened her bag to pull out her brush to fix her car-bed-head.

The warm, fuzzy feeling vanished. Her socks were scattered instead of tucked into a neat bundle. Her neatly folded shirts were fluffed and wrinkled. Her brush was sitting on top of everything, instead of trapped at the bottom of the bag. Gwen's stomach curdled, and her feet moved before her mind could catch up, stomping back to the dinning area and the two giants waiting for her there.

"You went through my stuff!" Gwen slammed her back pack down on the table and glared. Fries went flying and the ketchup landed on the tabletop with a thump. Sam flinched, and his cheeks flushed. Bits of salad were scattered across his lap. Dean snatched his tray away just in time to save his burger from being smashed.

"Hey!" Dean shifted the bag to one side and reclaimed the space for his food. "Watch it!"

"You went through my stuff!" Gwen had her hands on her hips, but Dean just gave her a level stare. As if she wasn't shooting flaming daggers out of her eyes.

"Yeah. I did. You broke into my car."

Gwens hands were balled into fists, but his answer kicked all of the air out of her. When she got mad, this wasn't the way people normally reacted. They argued back, they screamed and threw their hands in the air. They didn't just sit there as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Dean was licking the last bit of bacon grease off of his fingers, as if his burger were far more important than her temper-tantrum.

It effectively stopped the scream in her throat, and instead she let out a soft sigh and dropped back into her seat, cheeks flushing red. He had seen her underwear, her supply of feminine hygiene products, her holey socks-but there was a worse possibility. "What did you-you didn't-did you read my diary?"

"I was gonna, but Sam objected on moral grounds."

Gwen deflated, and felt her heart slow. Her most private thoughts were safe. Secret. Good. Her dad had protected her already.

Sam smiled reassuringly. "No one read your diary." His voice was low, soothing. She melted.

Except for that little voice in her head that had been trained by her grandmother. It niggled and nagged until she blurted, "Then what did you-why did you-" If they hadn't read her diary, why had they gone through her stuff?

"I wanted to know why you were in my trunk," Dean said. He was scraping up the last of his fries. "I mean, if you wanted to find Sam, why didn't you just introduce yourself face to face? Why hide?"

Her heart stopped. _They know_. Gwen drew in a gasp, and turned to Sam. His warm brown eyes met hers, mirror images of each other. Dad-Sam-shifted in his seat, nervous. Questioning.

"You're really Gina's daughter?" His voice was breathy.

This was it, this was the moment. Gwen nodded. Her heart hammered and her mouth was dry. "Uh-huh."

"She really thought you were mine?"

"She was sure. I'm sure. You're my dad." Gwen blew out a breath. She had finally said the words. To him. For real. Now she had started, she couldn't stop. "I always wanted to meet you. But Mom said there was no way to find you. But I knew-I mean I hoped-you're my dad. You're family."

She let the last word linger over the table, waiting. This was where he would smile, cry, wrap her in his arms, and say of course she was right. Now that he knew about her, they would never be parted again.

Sam's face was stiff. He shifted sideways in his chair, away from her, and gave a small shake of his head. "Look, Gwen. We need to wait for the DNA results to come back before we decide anything. We already sent off the test."

DNA. Wait. What? The words sounded garbled at first. It wasn't what Gwen had imagined. It took her a moment to understand. "Oh. Right. Yeah, that makes sense I guess." Gwen scratched at her eye. She would not cry. She had cried enough this week to last the rest of her life.

"Back to my original question," Dean broke the silence. His burger basket was empty now, and there was nothing to distract his attention from her. He leaned back, crossing his arms. "Why were you in the trunk?"

Explain yourself. Why did adults always want her to explain why she did things? Gwen shrugged. "I don't know. When I saw you, I got-I wanted—I didn't know what to say or how to say it. I rehearsed it a thousand times, you have no idea. But when I saw you, I couldn't—I freaked."

"Yeah, about that. How did you find us?" Sam asked. "I mean, how did you even know we would be in Virginia?"

Gwen grinned and whipped her laptop out of her backpack. That was a question she could answer. It had been her secret bit of genius for a few months now. The words jumped from her mouth, eager to be shared.

"Impala Watch. See." She whisked her fingers across the keyboard to call up the webpage. "Your car is famous. It's the same make and model as the car in this book series-the books are really weird, but there are a bunch of crazy fans who do things like this. This website archives every sighting of a 1967 black Chevy Impala. Yours has the longest page."

Sam and Dean crowded behind her, heads bent low over the website.

"We have to figure out who to get rid of those books," Dean muttered.

"If the books had never been written, I would never have found you!" Gwen flashed them her biggest smile. Dean gave her a small half-smile in return, but Sam just frowned.

"So, I guess you're coming home with us."

The words were slow, hesitant. But it was enough. Gwen felt a thrill run through her, and jumped out of her set and into her father's arms. She squeezed him tight. "Yes! Yes! Thank you!"

He was stiff underneath her, still not sure about this, arms flapping awkwardly at his sides. "Now, it's only until we get the DNA results back."

Gwen nodded, head pressed into his chest. "Right. I know. You have to make sure. But I'm so glad I finally found you."

Slowly, his arms moved to encircle her gently. Gwen melted into the hug. Her dad. She had finally found him. It might not go the way she had pictured, but he would keep her safe. He would give her a home. He had to. He was family.

 **Well, the secret is out, but the DNA isn't in yet. What will Sam think of all this? Can the Winchester brothers handle a teenager?**

 **Lyrics are from Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes.**

 **Love to hear from you in the reviews! Thanks for reading.**


	4. The Surprise at the Motel

**Amber Alert**

Scared. That was the word. Dean had been trying to place the look on Sam's face all day, but couldn't because the context was all wrong. There was no danger. No monsters chasing them. No imminent death or even threats of death. They were driving, chilling in the front seat of the Impala; one of the safest places in their world. But Sam was scared.

Scared of the back seat and the new passenger sitting there, quietly reading.

Dean would be grinning, babbling with nerves, bouncing to the music on the radio, if he found out he had a kid. He remembered the warm, hopeful feeling when he had met Ben. It should be the same for Sam, right?

Of course not. However Dean reacted to something, Sam would do the opposite. His brother just sat there, curled in on himself, brooding. He said he was waiting for the DNA test, but he was already trying to cope with the facts of fatherhood.

Meanwhile, there was a teenager in the back seat, watching, waiting, hoping. And glaring every time Dean cranked the music too loud. Well, it was getting late. Dean sighed, and pulled off at the next motel. It was the first time he had ever gotten two rooms. Gwen took her key, gave Sam a sideways look, and vanished behind the stained door.

Sam paused for a moment, staring at the space where Gwen had been. Dean took the opportunity to claim a bed in their room, and settled in with his tablet. Impala Watch. It was like a gold mine. He called up the webpage again, scrolling through entries. Finding parts for the Impala was getting harder and harder. If he could track down other owners, maybe he could track down some new parts.

Dean expected to be interrupted at any moment. Sam had been silent all day, a sure sign of an emotional storm brewing inside. Soon enough, the dam would break and Dean would be deluged with Sam's internal monologue. It was coming soon, it always did. But Sam just settled his laptop on the small table, folded himself into the half-sized chair, and hunched over the screen.

Dean frowned. Not good. The longer it took Sam to get around to sharing his feelings, the worse it would be. He could prod, but a gut feeling told him that would be bad idea tonight. So Dean went back to his search for likely Impala owners. There was one in Kentucky; right on the way home.

"Dean."

His head snapped around at the sound of his name. Sam's voice was sharp, impatient. Dean's stomach clenched. "What?"

Sam turned the screen so Dean could see Gwen's picture framed in red, a special alert from the police to ask the general population to help locate the runaway. At least it didn't say she had been kidnapped. Still. Dean could just imagine what would happen if the cops found Gwen with them.

It would not be good.

Dean jerked his thumb at the door. "Come on." Sam picked up the laptop and followed, his face crinkled with worry.

Music poured through the cracks in Gwen's door, something peppy that made Dean's ears cringe and want to encircle his beloved cassette collection with a protective arm.

"Everything will be alright if we keep dancing like we're 22!" Gwen's voice was off-key, even through the door. The singing stopped as soon as she heard the knocking at the door. There was a yelp, a scuffle, and then she was there, a sweater pulled over her tank and cotton-candy-pink pajama pants.

"Hi!" Her face was filled with a wide smile that vanished as soon as she saw their stern faces. Her eyes grew wide, and she backed up. Dean bit his tongue, holding back a chuckle. It was classic. This girl was used to getting into trouble. Her I-didn't-do-it response was classically calculated to inculcate the illusion that she was innocent. "Um-is something wrong?"

"Gwen, we need to talk." Sam held up the laptop, fixing her with penetrating eyes.

Gwen's jaw dropped, and she let out an indignant squeal. She snatched the laptop, staring at the picture. "Oh no she didn't! I can't believe this! She told me it was her way or the highway-what did she expect? Now she thinks she can have the police drag me home? No!"

 _My way or the highway_. That had a familiar ring to it.

Sam pulled his laptop back protectively. Dean glanced up and down the walk, and motioned to Gwen's room. "Let's take this inside, shall we?"

Gwen pulled the door open wide and spun out of the way. "It's not a big deal, ok? I'm not a runaway, I just decided I don't live in Jackson, Ohio anymore."

"An Amber Alert is a big deal, Gwen. It means that the police are looking for you. It means they're asking the public to help look for you. You do know what they'll think when they find you with us, right?"

She blinked, deflating a little. "What? It's not like you kidnapped me or anything. I'll tell them that."

"Gwen, who did you run away from?" Sam's voice was soft, inviting her confidence. "Why did you leave Jackson? Did someone hurt you?"

"No." Her answer was quick and sure, and Dean believed it. "No one hurt me. I just didn't want to be there anymore. I want to be with you."

"Gwen, there is someone looking for you. If they care about you, they're probably worried." Dean knew all too well that gut-churning feeling. There was nothing like it. He had assumed that Gwen had no one. That she was on the road because she had no place else to be. The thought of someone sitting at home, waiting by the phone, made him glower. "Who did you run away from?"

She shrank back from his gaze, eyes flicking guiltily toward the floor. "My grandmother."

"Gina's mom?" The tone in Sam's voice indicated that he would have ditched that place as fast as possible, too. Dean turned his glower on him. Sam had always been the one doing the running; he had no idea what it felt like to be the one left behind.

"I think we need to call your grandmother, Gwen."

"No!" Gwen's eyes flew wide. "I don't want to go back there!"

"You said she didn't hurt you."

Gwen crossed her arms and looked away again. "No. She just wants to dictate my entire life."

Nope, there was no need to wait for the DNA test. Apparently, this girl had inherited more than her eyes from Sam.

"You said I could stay with you!" She turned those eyes on Sam now, but apparently he was immune.

"Until we get the DNA results, yes. But if you have someplace else you can be, Gwen-if you have a home, you should be there."

Gwen refused to look at Sam. He sighed. "We can talk about this tomorrow, ok? The DNA test will be in, we can decide what to do then."

Dean grimaced, thinking about an old woman sitting alone at home, waiting to hear if her granddaughter was alive or dead. He fixed Gwen with a stern eye. "If you believe that your grandmother loves you, you should call her. Let her know you're ok."

"I'll think about it," Gwen said, crossing her arms. Her expression clearly said there should be nothing to think about, she'd made her decision when she left. But her eyes twitched toward her phone, and Dean knew he had gotten through her prickly armor.

"Good-night." Sam gave her a small wave as they exited the room.

"Good-night, Dad."

The word made Sam squirm. He ducked out the door, and turned to Dean. "What do we do if she's really mine?"

"She's family. We make sure she's safe."

"No, we can't." Sam put his hands in his pockets, shook his head, and walked away. Dean watched him go, silent. So. That was the problem. No need for a long emotional talk to get his feelings out this time. Sam was scared he couldn't protect Gwen. The trail of dead Winchesters in their past proved him right.

Dean went to fetch a beer out of the cooler in the backseat and contemplated Gwen's closed motel room door. She wasn't in danger yet, but she would be. As soon as Crowley or the angels or anyone else who didn't like Winchesters learned Gwen existed, she would be their favorite blackmail.

 _Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe the DNA test will come back negative, and we can just drop her off with child services_.

But he doubted it. They were never that lucky.

 **NOTE: What will the DNA test show? What happened between Gwen and her grandmother? Will Sam and Dean be able to find a way to keep Gwen safe? More coming soon!**

 **I do love reviews! If you liked it, please let me know. Also, I'm trying to weave music into this story. The lyrics in this chapter were from Taylor Swift. Gwen loves her music as much as Dean, but they have such different taste! If anyone has some good song suggestions, let me know. I love finding new music to listen to.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	5. The Teenager in the Backseat

**The Teenager in the Backseat**

 _I have a child_.

Sam stared at the letters fixed in the glowing screen. The test results were clear: a positive match. There was no doubt anymore. No way to deny it. No way to put it off.

The words struck all of the air out of his lungs. He'd been pinned by supernatural forces before, but nothing had felt like this. He couldn't move, couldn't breath. Not that anyone would notice, stretched out as he was in his passenger seat. Even if he wanted to move, throw up-run-there was no place to go.

 _Mine_.

Sam looked at the rear-view mirror to the teenager in the backseat, swaying to whatever tune played on her phone, hunched over her tablet, reading. He had met her two days ago. She had spilled soda in their back seat, tossed his salad all over his lap, disrupted his reading, and doubled their travel costs.

 _My daughter_.

Hunting had halted. They couldn't take another job until they figured out what to do with her. Sam had already passed over two possible hunts that were on the way home. Instead, he quietly called in other hunters while Gwen was out of earshot. Her presence changed everything. The DNA results confirmed it.

 _I am a father_.

Sam let out a slow breath. Dean cocked an eyebrow, glancing from the phone in Sam's hand to his brother's face. Sam gave a slight nod, and Dean's eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror before returning to the road. He didn't say a word, and Sam was grateful. He needed space, needed air, needed-he didn't even know what.

 _What does this mean_?

"Are we there yet?" Gwen pulled out an earbud, let her tablet tilt forward and stared out the window at the passing landscape; flat fields full of wheat as far as the eye could see. Sam had to admit that the landscape surrounding their home in Lebanon was the most monotonous view he had seen in the lower 48. Instead, Sam tiled his head to read the reflection of Gwen's table screen in the window. She was reading a book again, this one without actual paper pages; If I Stay.

"It's been two days!" Gwen was glaring at the window now. "And we're in the middle of nowhere again!"

Two days in the car. That was nothing for Sam. He was used to living in the passenger seat, pumping his legs to stave off cramps and entertaining himself with a book or his computer.

"We're about half a day out yet," Dean said.

Gwen in the backseat was not doing so well. She wriggled. She squirmed. She unpacked and re-packed her clothing to make it all fit better in the bursting-at-the-seams bag she carried. She even tried to get them to play the alphabet game.

Thankfully, Dean declined to share the adult-version of that game he had invented back when _he_ was seventeen. But the gleam in his eye told Sam he thought about it.

Instead Dean had spent the past two days asking questions. They learned all about Gwen's life in Jackson, Ohio. Her classics book club, her job at the ice cream shop, her freshman-year crush on school chess-champion Tommy Green, and her dedicated hatred of candy-corn. That last remark had been fighting words for Dean, who was dedicated to all candy equally. The candy-preference debate lasted for a good hour, and even Sam had to weigh in on the quality of fresh v. stale gummy bears. They talked about everything, except family. Whenever the conversation strayed too close to the subject of her grandmother, Gwen became a pillar or silence, or else artfully pulled Dean into a tangent of acceptable flavors of milkshake.

She was fitting in just fine.

Dean reached forward and turned up the volume on the radio. "Take my hand, it's off to never-never land!" He joined with the chorus, then hummed as a strong chord kicked in. The deliberately annoying nature of the move settled Sam's stomach. Gwen was not pleased or comforted by the elder Winchester's ways.

"Dean! Can you turn it down?" Gwen's tone was weary; she'd asked a dozen times over the past two days.

"Metallica is classic. This is good music, it's better than-whatever you've got in that phone of yours. You stick with us, you'll get the best music education of your life."

"You don't even know what I'm listening too!" Gwen pulled the earbud plug out of her phone and held it up to the front seat. A whiskey-roughened female voice crooned from the speakers, "Oh every time it rains, it rains pennies from heaven. Don't you know every cloud contains pennies from heaven."

Dean turned to stare at Gwen, and Sam couldn't decide if he should grab the steering wheel, or laugh out loud. After a second, Dean turned back to the road, trying to keep the smiled off his face. "Billie Holiday?"

Gwen sat back with a smug look on her face. "Billie Holiday and Metallica don't mix." She put the plug back into the phone, but not before Billie finished her tune and Johnny Cash's familiar baritone began crooning "You are my sunshine."

Sam watched Dean, nearly biting his tongue to keep from laughing. There was nothing about those music choices he could complain about. Instead, his hand reached for the dial, and he turned his Metallica down. The bass and drums now hummed softly in the background. Sam passed Gwen a grateful smile, which she returned beaming.

"So, what's your book about?"

"Oh." Gwen looked down at her tablet, her eyes suddenly shinning. "It's just-it's about a girl who lost her parents. Now she's in a coma, and she has to decide if she wants to die and be with her mom and dad, or stay and live with her grandparents."

Sam felt his heart wrench. "Oh." His tone echoed Gwen's. The question lingered between them, the one he had neglected to ask, the one Gwen had avoided answering. "What happened, with Gina? How did-how did your mom die?"

Gwen pressed her lips together tight for a moment, and turned off her tablet screen. "She died of cancer. She didn't know she had it until the last three months. It went fast."

"I'm sorry." Sam felt his eyes prick. He had seen sad stories play out in real life before, seen people lose loved ones. But this was different somehow. A weight settled on his chest. Gina. "I wish I-"

"It's ok that you weren't there. You didn't know about me."

That wasn't what Sam had been ready to say. But then, he wasn't sure what he had been about to say. _I wish I had known about you_. The image of Jessica pinned to the ceiling, fire blossoming around her, filled his vision. No. If he had known about Gwen ten years ago, what might the Yellow-Eyed Demon have done? The thought left him cold.

"Pit stop anyone?" Dean's voice burst into the awkward silence, and he was already decelerating.

"Yes!" Gwen chimed gratefully.

They had made more pit stops this drive than ever before. Sometimes, Sam was pretty sure Gwen didn't really need to use the bathroom, she just wanted to get out of the car. But neither of them questioned her requests. Dean had slept with more women than Sam could count, but still turned green at the mention of 'girl's business.'

Gwen was out of the car almost before it came to a halt, but Sam didn't bother leaving his seat. He still wasn't sure if his legs would hold him up.

He hadn't wanted to believe it, not really. This was his worst nightmare come true.

Sam had lost everyone he ever loved. Everyone who shared his DNA died. Gwen had no chance. The minute the supernatural world found out about her, she was as good as dead. He would protect her, of course, but-

 _I don't have to love her_. The thought rose up, a shield against the pain he had felt too many times before. Blood didn't mean family. Samuel Campbell had taught them that. Family was more than blood, Bobby Singer proved that. Gwen didn't have to be family. He had met her two days ago. They had no relationship. There was no reason she should mean more to him than any other person he met while hunting.

Except she did. It was why his legs had suddenly turned to jelly.

Sam watched Gwen trot toward the facilities and forced himself to breathe. Just breathe.

"Sam?" Dean's voice sounded far away. "You got the test results, right? You ok?"

"Yeah." Sam wasn't sure if his voice was working. The world had turned upside down, and he had never felt more helpless.

 _Everything I love dies_.

"Dean, what are we going to do?"

 **NOTE: "You are my sunshine" is a song my parents used to sing to me and my sisters when we were small. I think of Gina singing it to Gwen, and that is why it has a place on her playlist. I have no idea who wrote the tune, but it is an old one. Gwen is listening to a version by Johnny Cash. She was also listening to Pennies From Heaven, a song written in 1936, as sung by Billie Holliday. Dean was listening to Enter Sandman by Metallica.**

 **Well! Sam is sure now, but what will he do about it? Will Dean agree with Sam's choices? They're almost to Lebanon, what will Gwen think of the bunker?**

 **Thanks so much for reading! I would love to hear your response to this chapter in the reviews!**


	6. Group Hug on Highway 36

**Group Hug on Highway 36**

"Dean, what are we going to do?" Sam's eyes were sad, his face drawn. He stared out the window toward the building where Gwen had vanished, then turned to his big brother. It didn't matter how old they got, Sam could still make Dean's heart stop with that look. He had never stopped seeking Dean's comfort when the world felt too big.

Dean felt his spine respond before his brain, straightening his back and shoulders to carry the weight for both of them. He always had, and he always would. His tone was calm and sure.

"Call her grandmother."

Sam's face twitched. Not what he had been expecting to hear. "What?"

"Sam." Dean paused to weigh his words. It wasn't often he was so careful with them, but he knew that if this came out wrong, an explosion could follow. And that was the last thing they needed right now. He mentally unclenched his hands, letting his frustration and all of the baggage of years past fall away.

It was nothing, compared to shifting the rage the Mark of Cain had sent coursing through his entire system. It had been a month since the Mark was lifted, and Dean still marveled at how bright the world felt, how light his soul felt. And moments like this? Moments when he had struggled not to choke on his surging emotions too tangled to name. It was like lifting a one pound weight after carrying a thousand on his back.

"Think about it, Sam. The woman lost her daughter six months ago, and now her granddaughter has run away. She was worried enough she got the police to put out an Amber Alert. They don't do that on a whim. She loves Gwen-you know that much. She deserves to know what is happening. The first thing we have to do is call her. I've tried to be patient, but I'm about done."

Sam's face fell as Dean talked, and he looked away, eyes bright. "Yeah, I think I know how she feels."

 _You know_? The stomach cramps, the inability to sleep, the constant urge to do something, anything, but unable to move? How could Sam know? He had always been the one running, leaving Dean behind to deal with the fear.

Except last month, Dean had left Sam. Tried his best to ditch him and become un-findable. Oh. Right.

"Dean, Gina's mom is-"

"Was frustrated with her high-strung teenage daughter, last time you met her," Dean said. "When you were sixteen, and you started butting heads with Dad, he turned into a different person. When you two fought-sometimes, it was like I didn't know either of you. We have to give the woman and chance, and find out what happened. Gwen's not talking."

"Maybe she could go back." Not exactly what Dean had said, but Sam clutched at the words like they were a life preserver. "She could live with her grandmother, and forget she ever met us. We could tell her she isn't mine."

Panic. It was clear now. Every line in Sam's tense frame reeked of it. When they had met Adam-not even the real Adam- Dean had been hesitant to bond but Sam had tried to work his way into the younger man's life almost immediately. Then, they learned he was dead. Dead before they could even really meet him. Now, he suffered an even worse fate.

In the grand scheme of things, death wasn't such a terrible thing. But that didn't make it good. As much as we wanted to wrap the teenager up in a bone-crushing hug and force his niece- _his niece!_ -to listen to every mullet-head who ever put fingers to guitar, Dean understood Sam's hesitation.

Once they claimed her, they drew a target on her back. Lots of things hated Winchesters. Lots of things would love to have a bargaining chip against them. And now, the Darkness had made it clear she had a special interest in Dean.

Lying about the DNA test would solve all their problems. Keep her safe, permanently. Except for one small problem.

"Yeah, you're never gonna pull off that lie, Sam." _And neither will I_.

"Then what do we do?" Sam asked again. They both turned as the backdoor swung open. Gwen plopped down in the middle of the bench seat. She shifted her backpack onto the floor and paused, staring at the brother who were staring back at her.

"What?" Gwen's eyes flicked from one to the other.

Sam wordlessly reached over the seat and handed her his phone, the screen open to the email he'd just received. She took it, paused for a moment, and then her eyes went wide. The phone spilled out of her hand and she lunged forward, arms open for a hug. Either that, or she'd suddenly decided to strangle Sam, but Dean was confident that Sam could defend himself if that were the case. Before she could get there, her head collided with the Impala's roof.

"Ow!" Sam and Dean both winced on reflex. Then they all spilled out of the car and Gwen collided with Sam's chest, both arms wrapped around his torso in an iron vise. Like she was never letting go. Sam squeezed her close, but then pulled back to stare. He held her at arms' length, studying her face. Looking for his own reflection? Or Gina's?

Dean still hadn't gotten much out of him about that girl.

Dean let them have a moment before he butted in with a, "Hey!" and Gwen obligingly wrapped an arm around him, too.

Those were strong arms. Stronger than iron. Stronger than lead. Stronger than silver. They cut into his heart. He was caught in a net neither of them could escape. They may have just met, but she was family, and that changed everything.

 _Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality_.

But they weren't her only family, and he couldn't forget that. He could still feel the memory of the ache that twisted through him when Sam had run away, all those years ago. He, too, pulled back and gave Gwen a long look. "Gwen, before we do anything else, we have to call your grandmother."

"What?" Her voice was shriller than Sam's had ever been, but the tone was the same. Her face darkened, a storm contained in her eyes. "No."

"Look, we're not going to send you back there, ok? But she needs to know you're ok. She needs you know you're alive." Gwen glared, but Dean had expected that. "If you don't call, we will."

Immediately, Gwen spun to face Sam. "Dad?"

Dean felt the world tilt a little. He was the head of this family. He made the final decisions. Not Sam. But she stood there and waited, eyes fixed on her father. Right. I'm just the uncle. Dean frowned, and looked to Sam.

Sam was caught with his mouth open. He could see the storm brewing, too, and cast his eyes from side to side. Looking for a way out? No, noticing all the other travelers at their little rest stop. A few had started to stare.

"Ah-look, Gwen. We do need to talk about this, but lets do it at home."

Gwen turned back to Dean warily. "You won't make me go back?"

There was a warning in Sam's eyes. If he said no, absolutely no, he could be lying. But he also knew from experience that if they sent her back and she didn't want to go, she wouldn't stay. "Sam's right. Let's talk at home. Ok?"

Gwen shifted from foot to foot, but nodded. It wasn't like she had much room to argue. "Yeah. Ok."

 **NOTE: Will Gwen decide to call her grandmother, or will Dean do it for her? What will Grandma Torres think of the Winchesters?**

 **The bit of lyric's that Dean references are from Bohemian Rhapsody.**

 **I love review! Thanks for reading!**


	7. Thoughts of Home

**The Home Under the Hill**

Gwen could still feel their arms wrapped around her, huge and strong and warm. The feeling lingered as they continued down the highway, again. A road sign said fifty more miles to Lebanon. Another hour in this rumbly, smelly, ancient car. But it was ok. She could deal with the car, and the drive. She had her father, and that was all that mattered.

Finally.

 _He knows. He likes me. He wants me_. The look he had given her was better than any hug. Eating her up with his eyes, swallowing her whole so that they would never be parted again. _He might not want you. He might not care. He might be a serial killer or something._ All of the warnings from her friends, her grandmother, they were all proven wrong. Sam was good, she could tell.

So was Dean. Too good. Nana would love him. And not just because he wanted Gwen to call her.

Nana.

Gwen crinkled her nose and glared at her phone. He wasn't wrong. Nana would be worried. As much as she didn't want to go back, Gwen could feel the little nips of guilt pinching at her stomach. She had left in the dead of night, crawling out the window and leaving nothing but a three-word note behind.

At the time, she had thought it was a better plan than getting into a screaming match and slamming a door in the old woman's face. Mom wouldn't have wanted her to do that. But the look in Dean's eyes told her he knew. Knew something Gwen didn't about being left behind by someone you love. It wasn't ok, not at all, and she was going to make it right again.

Which meant someone had to call. Or else he would.

Did Dean realize that if he called Nana, she'd probably have a heart attack then and there? She hated Sam. If she knew where Gwen was, who she was with-she'd call out the FBI, CIA, NSA and maybe NASA, too.

A text lit up her screen. Roxy. Right on time. Her safety plan, just in case her dad was, you know, a serial killer or something.

 _ **You still alive**_? She sent the same text every day at the same time. If Gwen didn't answer, Roxy would give the police the GPS passcode for her phone, and they would come running.

Gwen's fingers twitched across the screen. **_Yeah. Any news?_**

 _ **Our soccer team lost. Again**._

She didn't have to add, _Miss you_. Gwen had left a lot more than her grandmother behind in Jackson. But she couldn't stay, and Roxy was the only one who seemed to get that. The girls on the soccer team, her friends at school, they tried to be nice. Tried to be sympathetic. But they couldn't help, not really.

She didn't want help. She wanted something different. She wanted something new.

No. She wanted everything she had lost. Everything she couldn't have.

It hurt too much to be in Jackson right now. She couldn't go back, even if it meant missing her senior soccer season.

Would there be a yard at her new home? A patch of grass to kick her ball around on? That was one thing Nana had never complained about. She had even let Gwen set up goal between her hydrangeas. Gwen tapped the screen.

 _ **How's Nana?**_

 _ **I thought you didn't want to know**_.

No. She had given clear instructions that she wanted to know nothing about her grandmother. Because of the hard lumps rolling through her guts right now. She could picture Nana sitting at the window, phone clutched in her hand. Or terrorizing the police station on a daily basis, waiting for news.

It's bad. She had the police search the school with dogs. Checked every locker. Gwen felt her heart lurch. She hadn't been wrong.

Roxy texted again, _**She's working the judge to get an order to have my house searched, and my parents know I know something. I'm going to get grounded soon. Can't I just tell her you're ok? It's not like I'd give her this phone number. She hasn't got a clue that you've even left town.**_

Gwen closed her eyes, pressed the phone to her forehead, and let the screen go dark. The last words of the last fight swirled through her head.

 _I'm doing what is best for you._

 _I didn't ask you to._

 _You will obey the rules of this house, young lady, for as long as you live here._

 _I didn't want to live here! I hate you!_

The look on Nana's face when she said those words had done it. The fights, the rules, the black maelstrom of emotion swirling inside her, they had all played their part. But the pale, stricken look on her grandmother's face, that look had crushed Gwen's heart and pushed her out the door. If she stayed, things would just get worse. She would do something worse, and she didn't want to hurt Nana.

But she had. Dean was right. He was being nice about it, but he was mad at her and he was right to be. Gwen curled up and let her head lean against the window. She ran her fingers across the keyboard again. _ **You can tell her I'm ok**_.

Gwen closed her eyes, but there was no darkness there. Only images of her home, her friends, her grandmother. Behind it all lurked a black shadow, a headstone with her mother's name, piled high with flowers and tears.

 _I wish you could have met your dad_. Gina had given Gwen everything possible, but that dearest wish had always been beyond her reach. A smile tickled Gwen's mouth even as she wiped away a tear. _Don't worry Mom, I found him_.

"We're almost there." Dean tapped a knuckle against the window as they drove past the Welcome to Lebanon sign. Gwen uncurled and lifted her head to read the fine print on the sign. Population, 218.

What?

Her soccer league was bigger than that.

Gwen was from a small town. Gwen knew what a small town looked like. She liked small towns just fine. But this was-Gwen whipped hear head over her shoulder to stare behind her. They had passed it that fast. A collection of houses, most covered in peeling paint, huddled next to the road. There was one bar, one gas station, and-she couldn't see it anymore. Lebanon was gone.

"You don't live in town?" Her life was shrinking before her very eyes.

"It's just a little ways out." Dean pulled onto a gravel road and drove through a cluster of scraggly trees and around a hill. A huge brick and cement building rose out of the side of the hill, like a hobbit-hole on steroids. They pulled past a small doorway set into the hill. The car bumped and rattled as they left the gravel behind for a dirt path overgrown by weeds. Gwen squinted out the window. Was this even a road anymore?

The track ran into another aide of the hill, and ended at a pair of large iron doors set into the ground. They were huge and thick, like stable doors on a barn with an iron bar across the front. It looked like a dungeon.

In two long days in the car, Dean and Sam had never said much about their home. Or their jobs. Gwen swallowed hard and gripped her phone tight.

Dean stopped the car and Sam got out. He lifted the iron bar as if it were made of straw, and pushed the doors open. Lights flickered on inside, revealing a long tunnel. Sam returned to the car and they drove into the hill.

"This is where you live?" Gwen's voice sounded small in the tunnel. A row of cars came into view, all of them old, all of them shinning and polished. Not a dungeon. What, then? "What is this place?"

Dean put the car into park and turned to her with the widest smile she'd seen on his face yet. "This is home."

 **NOTE: What do you think so far? Does Gwen remind you of anyone? ;) Do you want to meet her grandmother?**

 **I love reviews. Please leave a few words, and thanks for reading!**


	8. The Ghosts in my Home

**The Ghosts in my Home**

 _This was a bad idea_.

Sam knew it as soon as they arrived at the bunker. He didn't know what made his stomach suddenly clench. He didn't know where the cold shiver that ran down his spine came from. It could have been Gwen's sudden questions. She had been quiet for an hour, but now her mouth wouldn't stop moving.

"What is this place? Where did these cars come from? How old are these books. Is that a real sword? What do you guys do, anyway? Like, for your job?" The questions poured from her mouth, puncturing every carefully kept secret the Winchesters held.

Questions for which Sam had no good answer. The job. The bunker. He couldn't explain them, not without revealing everything that he absolutely did not want Gwen to know.

But Sam was used to keeping secrets. It was more than that.

There was the bright look in her eyes, which grew wide and circled the room, her head tilting back, back, back take in the shelves of books and artifacts and the high ceiling. Running her hand along the world map table. Grinning at the treasure-trove that was the Winchester's home base.

"Seriously, are you rich?"

"Nah." Dean shook his head. "We inherited this place from our grandfather."

The last woman to come into their home had had the same reaction. She had loved Sam and Dean, made herself at home in the bunker, and delved into the hunting life without fear. Now she was dead, and it was all Sam's fault. _Charlie._ He still couldn't hear her name without feeling a pang.

But Gwen wasn't Charlie. She didn't care about comic-con or computers. She didn't have any skills that would put her in danger. Or keep her out of it. No, her story would be different.

She could die even more horrifically.

Like Kevin. Gwen touched the stone walls, running her finger along the line of mortar, exactly where Kevin Tran had stood when Sam killed him. Burned the life out of him with his bare hands, and the help of an angel's grace. _Not your fault_. Sam knew that, but that didn't help him shake the memory.

"What do you do? I mean, why do you travel so much, when you've got a place this cool."

"Did you see the town?" Dean asked, jerking his thumb in the general direction of the road.

"I'm not sure. There was something, then I blinked and it was gone."

"Exactly. We're in pest control." Dean pulled off the line without even a pause.

 _Pest control_? Well, that was one way to put it.

"We kill all kinds of nasty critters," Dean went on. Gwen made a face begging him to spare her the details.

She wasn't going to ask any more questions about their job anytime soon. Good. Sam didn't want her to know about hunting. It was safer that way.

Was it?

If she didn't know, she couldn't get involved. Couldn't walk herself into danger. But if she didn't know, and evil came for her, she couldn't defend herself.

 _What is the best decision_?

He didn't know. How could he know?

Dad had always known. He had never wavered, never backed down, never changed his mind. No matter how much Sam disagreed with him, John Winchester had always acted like he knew what was best.

It had been a long time since Sam longed for his father. The ache of family lost never really went away, but some days he could forget about it. Other days, he saw them all, flicking in and out of his vision like ghosts. They filled the bunker. Jessica, dead because she didn't know about hunting. Mom, dead because she did. Dad. Bobby. Ellen. Jo. Charlie. Kevin. They circled, their memory taunting him.

He ganked ghosts every week, but he couldn't keep them out of his head.

"Are you ok?"

Sam blinked. Gwen was staring at him now, head cocked.

"Because you look a little green."

Dean turned, frowning. In one glance, he saw that whatever was boiling beneath the surface, he wasn't going to be able to help his brother right now. So he changed the subject. "You look hungry." He pointed to Gwen. "Are you hungry? I'm hungry. I'll go work on dinner."

Gwen watched Dean leave, scratched her head, and turned to Sam with her eyebrows scrunched. "You guys are pest exterminators, but you live in a giant-underground-museum-fortress-"

"Bunker. We call it the bunker." Sam ran his hand through his hair and mirrored her look. He knew there were holes in this story. _Please don't ask me to explain_. He didn't want to lie to her.

"You live in a hidden bunker in the middle of nowhere, and you drive around the country spraying people's home for cockroaches?"

"We deal with-special pests." It sounded ridiculous even as he said it.

"Uh-huh." She didn't push, yet. Sam sat back on the table, one foot dangling free, fixing his eyes on his daughter.

"So what was your home like?"

Gwen's eyes roved the room for a moment. "Not like this. But not like anyone else's, either. Mom and I didn't often do things the normal way."

Sam allowed himself a small smile. No, Gina never did things the way one would expect. "When I knew her, she loved her camera more than anything else." Gina had dreams of going to college to study art, but Sam had seen the website for her photography business. She'd given up her dream to raise her child. His child.

"Yeah, it was great that Mom didn't have a boss. I never had to go to daycare, and we could do whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted." Gwen gave Sam a sideways glance and shrugged. "You know, except when she was busy all weekend with a wedding or something."

Yeah, Sam knew what it was like to wait for a parent to come home from work.

"What about your friends? Is there anyone left who misses you?"

Gwen's eyes narrowed sharply. "Why are you still doing this? You know now, you know I'm your daughter. But you want me to go back!"

"Gwen!" Sam reached for her shoulders to keep her from turning away. "Look around you. This isn't a normal home, this isn't a normal life. Yes, I am your father, and that changes everything." Sam took in a deep breath. It was the first time he had said those words out loud. "What I want is what's best for you. You might not like the life we have here. When you run away from home, you leave a lot of good things behind."

Gwen cocked her head, caught by his confession. "Mom said you and your dad fought a lot. Did you run away?"

"Yes. I ran several times. And every time, I hurt the people I loved." He hadn't thought about it then. Hadn't cared. Would she?

"Why did you leave?" Gwen asked.

It had all been so clear at the time, the festering rage, the driving need to be somewhere else, do something else. How to put it into words? "I wanted a better life."

Gwen held her chin high. "Me too."

"You don't want to see your friends or graduate from the same school?" Sam asked. "You aren't worried about your grandmother?"

Gwen bit her lip. "I'm worried tons about Nana, but trust me. She's better off without me. I love her more than anything, but we just-we don't work. We can't live together, not like that."

Sam closed his eyes. "You know, I felt the same way about my dad. I didn't talk to him for four years. I got to see him for just a few days before he died. Now, the only thing I think about is the time we lost. I don't want you to regret that, too."

Gwen sniffed and buried her hands in her pockets. "You're not trying to get rid of me?"

"I want you to be ok."

"I will be. I'll be fine, you'll see." Gwen squirmed and scratched her head. "Look, we've been in that car forever. I need to get road-smell off me. Car head is as bad a bead-head you know. This place has a shower, right?"

"Right." Sam pointed the way to the bathroom. Give her some space to think about what he'd said. Let her call her friends. Realize she wanted to go home all on her own. It would be better than a fight.

Because the only thing that Sam knew for sure was that Gwen could not live here.

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing!**


	9. No More Leftovers

**No More Leftovers**

 _We have a kid. We have a kid. I'm an uncle. We have a kid._

The thought bounced and danced, a constant background beat as Dean settled into the familiar routine of coming home. Unpack the Impala. Set out the guns for cleaning. Give laundry to Sam. Find food.

He moved toward the kitchen, humming. _You can count on me, no matter what you do. You can count on me, no matter where you go_. It wasn't his usual style, but there was no one around to comment. Besides, if the show fits, sing the theme song.

Dinner. Dean's usual recipe for an after-hunt meal was all of the leftovers that had accumulated in the fridge before they set out on their latest journey. The idea of having leftovers to come home to was a novelty that hadn't worn off yet. Last weeks pizza, the Chinese he'd enjoyed a few days before, all of these things were waiting for him, producing new smalls and fuzzy coverings to varying degrees.

In years past, he hadn't even had a fridge in the motel to store something for one night. Never had he been able to store something until he came home again. The mix-and-match selection that made up Winchester homecoming feasts was a reminder that they had a home to come to.

He'd also discovered some new and interesting smells. Typically, those landed in the trash.

Dean pulled open the pizza box and sniffed. There were a few patches of green fuzz, but he could cut those off easy enough. The Chinese sauces aged well, and were only a little sour. The bread was slightly stale, but not sprouting new growth yet. Nothing that would upset his stomach. Dean set out the feast, and knew the face Sam would make at the sight.

Gwen would probably make the same face. It wouldn't do at all. With one sweep of his arm, he deposited it all in the trash.

"Hey!" Sam paused in the doorway, foot hanging between one step and the next. "That was our dinner!"

"You want to feed Gwen fuzzy leftovers her first night here?"

Sam shrugged. "I hadn't really thought about it." No. He had other things on his mind.

"I'm cooking. I'll need some groceries. Is she hungry yet?"

Sam shook his head. "No, she want to take a shower. Something about car-head being as bad as bed-head."  
"Right, so I've got a good hour." There were several dishes he could pull together on short notice. Not burgers, they'd had several on the drive here. Gwen, Dean noted, ate as much salad as Sam. Something better, something classier, and he'd get some green stuff, too.

"Dean." Sam's soft tone caught him halfway through the door. It was a warning tone, though there was no danger here.

Dean felt his stomach drop. He turned to see his brother, eyebrows drawn and together.

"She can't stay."

"It's just dinner, Sam."

Sam didn't waver. "You know what I mean." _Don't get attached. Don't get used to this_.

"Look, Sam, I know she can't hunt with us, but-"

"She can't stay, Dean." Sam's tone was soft, but his posture was solid, immovable. He'd made up his mind about something. There was a haunted look in his eyes. The one he'd had when they found Charlie's body.

"If she doesn't go back to her grandma, then we're all she's got." It was a thin line of reasoning, and Dean knew it. But it was true, so he clung to it.

"We don't know that. But it doesn't matter. She can't stay, Dean."

"Well, we have to feed her tonight. We'll talk about it later."

Sam's jaw tensed, but he didn't say anything. Not a good sign.

Dean turned away. They would talk about it later, after Sam had time to calm down. Spend some time with the girl. Bond a little more.

Because Dean knew that if Sam tried to send Gwen away, the fight would be ugly, and the last thing Dean wanted was to lose his niece. Not so soon. Not like that.

Nothing would happen to her in the bunker. They could keep her safe.

Charlie had almost died in the bunker. Kevin had died in the bunker. The Stynes had broken down the front door and nearly burned everything to the ground. Now, a force of evil that pre-existed creation itself was interest in Dean and he still didn't know what she wanted from him.

Sam was right. Gwen couldn't stay.

Dean paused, hand resting on the hood of the Impala. "We've got a big problem, Baby." _We have a kid_.

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing! Coming soon, Gwen explores the bunker and gets a closer peek at Winchester life.**

 **Dean is humming the theme song from a TV show called "My Two Dad's" which is from the 90's, so it's likely Dean saw the show, and, well, the theme fits! I have never seen the show, the theme song was suggested to me for this chapter by a friend.**


	10. Pajama Party in the Bunker

**Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I love hearing from each of you. Keep Trucking, thanks for all of your lovely comments. I enjoy reading them. I apologize for forgetting to cite the music. I will do so form here on out. If I don't, feel free to remind me!**

 **I hope you will enjoy this chapter. I think they will be a little longer from now on.**

 **Pajama Party in the Bunker**

 _Here comes the sun! Doo Doo Doo Doo! Here comes the sun._ Gwen's voice echoed across the huge bathroom, the stone walls throwing back her words for more volume than she had ever achieved in the shower before. She let her words rise as the water poured over her head, washing away the clinging scents of greasy road food, moldy motel rooms, and the weathered interior of the old black car. The shower had always been Gwen's private concert hall, and she didn't care if anyone else could hear. While she was getting clean, she was going to sing.

The song was all Mom's fault. The Beatles had never been entirely to Gwen's taste, but her mother had loved them and their cheery harmony had been the backdrop of their home.

Gwen hummed and scrubbed, and watched the water swirl down the drain, carrying away the sticky feeling of the road. Could it carry away the fear and frustration that had haunted her trip? Could it wipe clean the last six months? Could this be her new home?

Gwen swallowed hard against the sudden lump in her throat. _Home_. She wanted to go home more than anything, but home wasn't there anymore. Nana had destroyed it.

It had been terrible to lose her mother, but Gwen had known it was coming. She had time to get ready. Time to say good-bye. She had skipped a whole semester of school just to she and Mom could have as much time as possible. Gina had made arrangements for her daughter to receive a monthly income and remain in their apartment on her own until she turned eighteen. Gina had not wanted Gwen to lose her mother and her home at the same time. Gwen had known that even though she would lose her mother, the rest of her life would move forward the same as always.

Then Nana stepped in.

Nana thought she knew better, and destroyed Mom's plans almost as soon as the dirt has been pushed over her grave. In her supposedly superior wisdom, Agnes Torres had determined that Gwen was not able to manage on her own and needed to live with an adult. Needed to live with her. It was like Hamlet, only there was no evil king to fight. Only a tyrant who thought her way was best. Every time Gwen complained, Nana cried that she only wanted to take care of her one surviving relative.

Well, Gwen had other relatives, and she had found them.

She stepped out of the shower and gazed around the military-style row of showers. It was a very strange home, designed to house twenty, not two. Good. It wouldn't be hard to make room for one more. She wouldn't take up much space, and it wouldn't cost them any money to keep her.

Still, Gwen felt an uneasy twinge. There was something hiding here. Something she had not been told. A family secret she was not allowed to know. Not yet.

She had always assumed that her grandfather did something illegal for a living. She never knew if her father did too, or if he had gotten out like he told Mom he wanted to. When she saw his car on Impala Watch, criss-crossing the country, she knew. He was doing something 'off the books.' This place was something more than a con-artists lair. It was a puzzle, but Gwen was sure she would work it out soon enough. Either way, it didn't matter.

Whatever Sam and Dean did for a living, they were her family. That meant that she was safe with them. She was sure of that much already.

"Gwen!" Sam was waiting for her when she emerged from the bathroom, a large duffle bag in hand. "I'm getting ready to do laundry-"

"Perfect." Her bag was beginning to take on interesting odors due to the stack of dirty clothes tucked in the bottom. She hadn't trusted the washers at any of the motels they stopped at. Sam pointed out the detergent and fabric softener, both brands made for heavy-duty stain removal.

Sam didn't offer to do the laundry for her, she noted, and his cheeks turned pink when she set her bras out on the counter. He covered the sight by holding up a panel of that used to be a shirt, but was now a ripped mess stained with something dark brown. Soy sauce?

"Wow, that must have been one serious food fight." Gwen leaned forward, sniffing. "What is that?"

Sam put the detergent in her hands, blocking an odor she could pick up with the scent of chemicals. He smashed the shirt into a wad and tossed it into a trash bin full of similarly ripped and stained fabric. "Not sure, that was Dean's. He can be a slob."

She noted the shift in his tone and the small twitch that accompanied his words. So. That was what he looked like when he lied. Good to know.

The next shirt Sam produced was also stained with blotches of brown, but only one or two rips. Sam examined it closely, and nodded. "That we can keep."

"Do you sew?" She couldn't picture his long frame and huge hands holding something a small as a needle.

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, our dad taught us to stitch." Though the way he said it, Gwen didn't think he was talking about stitching clothes.

o0o

With her laundry swirling merrily through the suds, Gwen set out to find a room. She could have any room she wanted, so Sam said. He pointed her down a hallway lined with doors and told her it didn't matter where she stayed for the night. She pranced down the hall, wondering what treasures lay behind each door. After the garage, and the main hall, the bedrooms must each hold their own special wonders.

Or not. They were all identical. One after another Gwen opened doors and found herself staring at the same bed, same desk, same beige paint. She had to look down the hall to reassure herself that she had actually moved, and wasn't just staring at the same room again. So. Maybe this bunker didn't have as many secrets as she thought.

Until she opened the fifth door to find a man in a rumpled suit with red-rimmed eyes slouched in chair, staring a the TV.

"I don't understand. If they are all trapped on a tropical island, why is there a polar bear?" He spoke without bothering to look at her, eyes immobilized by the screen.

"Uh-what are you watching?"

"Lost. I don't quite understand-"

"That's ok, nobody did."

The man's frown just deepened. "Why would someone make a TV show that nobody understands?"

"No idea, but a lot of people watched it."

"Hm." The man's eyebrows lowered pensively. "Some days I think I will never understand humans." He turned to stare at her, startled. "You-are-not Sam or Dean.

"Sorry. I didn't realize you were here." Gwen took a step back and made to shut the door, but the man rose up out of his chair and came to stand directly in the doorway. He stared at her with bloodshot eyes.

"You-are female."

"Um-yes." Gwen's hand went reflexively to her short hair. Gwen missed the long mane that had once fallen to her waist but this haircut had made Nana grumble for weeks that Gwen looked like a boy. Totally worth it. Except she didn't really look like a boy, did she?

"Strange." The man squinted at her, head bobbing as if he were trying to focus on an elusive fly. "You are a Winchester. But-you're a teenager."

"Yes and yes." Gwen nodded and smiled brightly. "Is that a problem?"

"Sam is the youngest Winchester living." The man took another step closer, eyes flicking up and down to take in all of her. There was nothing creepy about his stare, though. It didn't make Gwen's skin squirm like some of the cruder boys at school. It was curious the way a musician is curious about a new sheet of music.

"Nope, not since he was sixteen."

"It makes sense that Dean would have a child. He does like to have a lot of sex."

"Uh-" Now Gwen felt her own cheeks turning pink. "Does he? I mean-no, don't answer that. Dean's not my father."

"You are their sister?"

"No! I'm Sam's-Sam's my dad."

"Hm." The man rocked back on his heels and put his hands in his pocket. "Interesting. You are lucky heaven and hell did not know of your existence."

"Uh-what?" She must have heard that wrong.

"I am Castiel, a friend of Sam and Dean." He was smiling now, an expression that lifted his entire face.

"Gwen Torres." She held out her hand to shake. His palm was warm and strong.

"Welcome, Gwen."

o0o

Gwen stood at an intersection and faced her most interesting choice of the evening. The stairs to one side were well lit and let up to the main hall. On the other side, another set of stairs plunged downward into darkness. But the switch was right there on the wall. It would take one flick of her finger to light the way. Just a few steps to see what else this bunker held. More empty rooms? Or something more? Gwen peered into the darkness, but there was no hint of what lay beyond.

On the other hand, a tantalizing mix of Mexican spices wafted toward her. Dinner. She felt her stomach gurgle and turned away from the mystery stairs. Another day she would see what lay that way. She bounced up the stairs and into the main hall.

"Dinner will be ready in ten minutes, just got to let a few things finish baking." Dean sat at a table with a rag in one hand and an oil jar in the other. An assortment of odd-shaped bits of metal were spread out before him.

"I met your friend. Castiel. Is he-" She paused, searching for the right word. "What's with him?"

Dean's eyes crinkled, as if he wished he'd seen the show. "Oh, Cas isn't from around here. Is he still stuck in Netflix?"

"I think he's moved on to Hulu and YouTube. More selection that way."

Dean gave her an exasperated look. Clearly, he knew that the only reason Castiel had found anything beyond Netflix was because Gwen had guided him there. "He's recovering, he had a rough time lately. He was sick, but now…." Dean shook his head. "He'll come out when he's ready." As Dean talked, his hands continued to work with the bits of metal, wiping them down with oil.

Gwen moved closer to the table and saw that the bits all fit together, a jigsaw made of steel that when assembled would become several guns. At least three shotguns and several handguns. There were also knives and-something a lot bigger than a knife, the blade as long as her forearm, set out in a row.

"Wow." Gwen stared at the weapons for a moment. She'd never seen so many in one place before.

Dean glanced up at her, then back down at the weapons. "Just tools of the job, nothing to be afraid of."

"The job. Right." Her stomach flopped. Pest control. Somewhere in the back of her head was a voice that sounded like Nana, and it shouted loudly that Gwen really need to learn more about the Winchester family business, and soon. "What kind of pests do you control?"

Dean's lips twitched at some private joke. "Not the ones you're thinking of. We deal with problems other people can't solve." He paused, studying her face carefully. "Big animals, for example." He picked up a machete and started working at a brown stain, identical in color to the stains she'd seen on the shirt Sam threw away.

There was no way he used that thing to eat Chinese. Which left one logical conclusion. The brown stains were blood. Gwen absorbed the information and waited, but she felt nothing.

"Big animals?" She wouldn't have questioned that statement. She knew coyotes and wolves, cougars and bears, sometimes got too close to towns and had to be put down. Those could easily be called 'pests'. But it was the careful way he said the words that told Gwen that wasn't entirely what he meant.

What other kind of 'pest' was there?

A deep inhale sounded behind her, breath drawn in through the nose to take in the smell of cooking food. "Dean, what did you make?"  
Gwen turned to see Sam behind her, Castiel in tow. He was wearing a clean shirt now, identical to his previous shirt.

Dean grinned, chest puffing slightly. "Death-Mex. I perfected this recipe for the big man himself. You guys are going to love it."

"Who's the 'big man?'" Gwen asked.

Castiel opened his mouth, but Dean cut it, "A business associate." Castiel closed his mouth again and gave Dean a considering look. Sam's eyebrows climbed to his hairline, and he shot Dean a look that clearly said if he'd been close enough, he would have smacked his brother. There was an awkward silence in the room, as if there was something more to say, but no one knew how to say it.

"So." Gwen reached behind her shirt and slid a small handgun out of her belt. It was a .22 Lady Colt she had taken from her grandmother's bedside nightstand. In case she ran into trouble on the road. She handed it to Dean. "Do you think that you can clean this for me?"

Dean stared at the gun for a moment, and a wide grin split his face. The awkwardness in the room dissolved. "Yeah, Yeah, I can." He paused as soon as he had taken the first two bits apart, and gave Gwen a deep frown. His face was serious, his posture immediately changed. No longer relaxed, he pointed to the seat next to him. "Sit down. If you're gong to carry this, you need to know how to clean it. After that, we'll take you down to the range and see what kind of shot you are."

Gwen found herself seated before she realized she had obeyed the command. "You have a shooting range?" She knew there was something interesting down that dark stairwell.

Dean gave her a big smile and a nod. "Oh, yeah."

o0o

It was probably the strangest sleepover Gwen had ever been to. Instead of playing truth or dare, they had target practice and enchiladas. Then, Dean hung her paper target on the refrigerator, as if it was a piece or art she'd brought home from kindergarten. The bulls-eye was riddled with holes-thanks to Nana's firm training. Then they all piled into Castiel's room, and spent a good half hour arguing over movies. Sam and Dean spent twenty minutes of it arguing the merits of Adventures in Babysitting vs. Back to the Future. In the end, Gwen took the remote and demanded they watch her favorite, Pitch Perfect. At which point both men tried to claim a space next to her on the bed, and she wound up in a Winchester sandwich.

Until the first song started and Dean crawled to the edge of the bed to engage in a fierce debate with the screen about the merits of acapella music. Every time a new song started, he moaned and acted like his ears were burning. But she could see his head bobbing in time to the beat. Beside her, she could also feel Sam's chest tremble as he held in silent laughter.

Gwen could still feel his warm presence as she settled into her own bed after the TV was turned off and the lights snuffed out. She was warm, she was safe, and just maybe, she could be happy. Yes. This was a good place. A familiar chord floated through her head as she drifted off to sleep.

 _Don't pay no mind to the demons, they fill you with fear. The trouble it might drag you down, if you get lost you can always be found. Just know you're not alone, 'cause I'm gonna make this place your home._

 **The songs in this chapter are Here Comes the Sun by the Beatles and Home by Phillip Phillips. Yes, Gwen is a music fan like her uncle, but she has much more varied taste. She likes modern, classic, and even classical music. Gina loved the Beatles, even though she wasn't born in that era. I have a friend who loves the Beatles who was a teen in the late 90s, so I have transferred her obsession to her age-mate, Gina.**

 **Nest up: More about Gina and Sam's backstory, and someone will be contacting Gwen's grandmother very soon.**

 **Please leave a review!**


	11. The Girl from Jackson

**The Girl from Jackson**

When the TV was off and Gwen and Cas tucked themselves away in their rooms, Sam followed Dean wordlessly to the library. Dean poured two tumblers of the Men of Letters best aged scotch, and lifted his glass.

"To parenthood."

Sam took a small sip, letting the bitterness roll over his tongue, and contemplated the amber liquid, but there were no answers to his dilemma there.

"So." Dean pulled back a chair, propped up his feet, and fixed Sam with a stern eye. The expression was familiar. It was the one he always wore when filling their father's shoes. Dean was in parent mode. Sam's eyebrows rose. What now?

"Alright Sammy, I've been patient. Time to spill."

Sam sat his drink aside. This was a conversation he wanted to have sober. "What do you want to know?"

"I want to know about Gina. I want to know what happened between you two, and I want to know as much as I can about Gwen's grandmother before I call her."

Sam's stomach flipped. "You want to call her tonight?"

Dean pointed a finger at the ceiling. "The bunker keeps anyone from tracking the call. That's the only reason I waited this long. But no, I'll wait until morning. I think Gwen should be there when we call."

"Right." Sam nodded. His thoughts still spun, unsettled. While Dean sat in front of him, solid and decided. How did his brother know exactly what to do? "Do you want to try to send her home?"

Dean snorted. "I know better than that. If a kid doesn't want to go home, they'll just run away again." There was no malice in his tone, but after a pause he pinned Sam with his eyes. There would be no escape for his little brother. "So, what happened between you and Gina? How come you never told me about her?"

Sam quirked an eyebrow. "You don't remember Gina?"

Dean blinked. "No. Should I?"

"Our first day in town she offered you fifty bucks to make out with her in front of her mom."

Dean's face changed as the memory dawned, moving from confusion to happy to horror. "That was Gina's mom?" He rubbed the back of his head. "She beat me up with her purse. I think she had a lead weight in there."

"Or a gun," Sam said. A small one, like the one Gwen carried now.

Dean let out a huff, but couldn't argue the point. "Wait a minute." Dean's expression turned sour. "I made out with the same girl you-" His finger pointed to Sam, then drifted in the direction of the bedrooms where Gwen slept. "Wait, that can't be right. Your first time was with Jamie Bayer in Maryland. You were dazed for a week."

Sam allowed a small smile at the memory. "Jamie. No. She wasn't the first."

Dean paused, eyes narrowed, as the puzzle pieces clicked into place. "Gina was your first."

Sam nodded.

"Wait, she was my age. You were-were you fifteen?"

"Sixteen."

Dean looked as if he'd bitten into a lemon. Because he'd just learned something new about Sam? Or because he hadn't managed his first time until he was seventeen? Whatever it was, he wasn't sharing. "How'd you avoid the purse?" Dean he asked instead.

Sam rubbed his own head. "I didn't."

Dean sniggered like a teenager, threw back another belt of scotch, and slapped the glass on the table. "Alright, Sammy! Come on! Details!"

Sam shrugged. "There's not much to tell. Gina was my lab partner in chem class. She wanted to hang out. She taught me to a few things-we had fun. Then Dad finished his hunt and we left. I never saw her again."

"How did I miss this?"

"You had just graduated. You were hunting with Dad, I was pretty much on my own."

"Hm. And Gina's mom? What happened there?"

Sam winced. "She caught us making out in Gina's car. Dragged Gina home and made me walk." Sam could still remember that hike. He'd run away so fast he left his shirt and his shoes behind. At the time, he'd just been glad Dean wouldn't be at the motel to tease him. "That was the only time I met her, but she and Gina never really got along."

Dean scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, I don't think that woman got along with anyone."

"She didn't have to, and she knew it. She owns half the town, and she's on the city council. That's why Gina couldn't date anyone else at school. They were all too terrified of Aggie."

"Aggie?"

"Agnes Torres."

"Huh." Dean swirled his glass, considering this new information. "What about Gina's dad?"

"Huh." Sam stared at his own drink. He hadn't even thought about that. "No idea. Her parents were divorced, but I think they would still hook up sometimes when her dad came to town. He was foreign."

"Mexican?"

Sam shook his head. "Don't think so. Don't know. But Gina spoke Spanish, and not the kind you learn in a textbook. Gina liked her dad, but then, she only saw him once or twice a year on the holidays."

Dean nodded. "Hard to hate someone on the holidays. Got his name?"

Sam shook his head. He had no idea who Gwen's grandfather was, or how to find him.

Dean drained his glass. "Alright. We'll call when Gwen's up. You know, so Aggie can have proof of life."

Sam's eyebrows shot to his forehead. "It's not like we kidnapped her."

Dean shook his head at Sam's naivete. Of course, an angry grandmother wasn't likely to see it that way. Especially a woman like Aggie Torres. Sam sighed, drained his glass, and followed Dean to bed.

 **Please Review!**


	12. Call to Ohio

**The Call to Ohio**

Jogging. Dean shivered at the thought. To run when nothing was chasing you. It didn't make sense, never would make sense. Sam seemed to have given up the habit lately, but Gwen was fully committed. Her jogging sneakers sat by the door, damp with morning dew.

Dean found Gwen in the kitchen, a smoothie in one hand and a piece of bacon in the other. Jogging and bacon. Dean grinned. What would Sam have to say to that lifestyle choice?

Dean was half through his coffee before Sam graced the kitchen, still blinking blearily and only half-awake. He didn't spare Gwen a second glance, just moved through his morning breakfast routine as if neither of them were there. Coffee in cup. Toast in toaster. Smoothie from refrigerator. Sam paused, shoulders tense, staring at the empty shelves. "Dean!" He glared at his brother over the refrigerator door. "You know not to touch my smoothies!"

"I didn't touch your smoothies, Sammy."

Beside Dean, Gwen made a sharp slurping sound, and grinned. "These are really good. What's your recipe?"

Sam gaped for a moment, then swallowed his complaint and moved toward the toaster. "Spinach. V8 juice-I have it written down somewhere."

"My mom made hers with fruit and ice cream." Gwen grinned at Sam's horrified look. "It's good stuff."

Dean jerked his thumb at Gwen "Now that's my kind of smoothie. Make a list, we'll get groceries later." He waited until Sam had started in on his coffee. It was only fair. But this couldn't wait any longer. He held up his phone so that Gwen could see the number ready to be dialed. "It's time."

Dean pressed the call button before Gwen could protest. At the sound of her squeal, Sam craned his neck to see the phone, and jerked his chin up sharply to glare at his brother. Dean offered no apology, and set the phone out in the center of the table, speaker on high. Two sets of identical wide eyes gaped at him in terror.

 _Ring. Ring_.

Both mouths snapped shut and eyes dropped to the phone as a breathless voice cam on the other line, her tone mixed with fear and hope.

"Who is this?"

Dean leaned forward. "Am I speaking with Agnes Torres?"

A pause. "Yes."

"My name is Dean, Ma'am. I met this girl named Gwen, and she looks a lot like an Amber Alert photo for your granddaughter. I thought I should call and let you know she's ok." It was what he would have wanted, when Sammy was missing. It was what this woman deserved.

"Dean?" The voice was sharp now, colored with the shrewd undertone of a practiced manipulator. His spine straightened in automatic response. "Dean Winchester?"

Now Dean felt his own mouth fall open. How did she know?

"Put your father on the line." The tone was imperious, a woman who expected to be obeyed.

Dean shared a startled look with Sam, who shook his head, the message clear; _I'm not talking to her_!

"I'm sorry ma'am, he's not available. He passed ten years ago." Why would she ask for Dad? Did she think he and Sam were still teenagers?

"Then who is caring for my granddaughter?" Yes, apparently in Aggie's eyes, the Winchester brothers were still no better than children themselves-still sixteen and nineteen, the age they had been when she had last seen them. Maybe, they should have had this conversation on video conference. Then, he could give her the full force of his glare.

Maybe he didn't need to. Gwen boiled out of her seat, face red. "I can take care of myself!" It sounded like the middle of an old argument. Possibly the argument that had sent Gwen packing in the first place.

Dean held up a hand and said in his calmest tone, "Gwen has food and a safe place to stay, Mrs. Torres."

"A child needs more than that, Mr. Winchester. Though I suppose I should not expect you to know that."

"Hey!" Dean's goodwill toward the poor, frail grandmother of a runaway teen evaporated. Aggie Torres was neither poor, nor frail. She was a stubborn woman too used to getting her own way. But Dean didn't get a chance for a return insult. Gwen jumped in swinging before he could open his mouth.

"I'm not a child!"

"You are barely seventeen. You don't know what you're dong. I thought you were hiding with a friend, or camping at the school. That I could understand. But no, you have run off across the country to seek out a man you know nothing about! He could be a criminal, he could-"

"I don't care, he's my DAD! Stop saying bad things about him!"

"You don't know what he-"

"I don't care if they're criminals, they're my family and-" Gwen's answer was swift, as if she'd considered this possibility already.

Of course, they _were_ criminals…technically.

"Gwen, do you have any idea how dangerous this is? How did you even get there? Wherever there is?" Aggie paused.

There was a murmur in the background. "No trace yet."

So, someone else was listening in on this little Torres family drama.

"I hitched a ride!"

Dean snorted. Hitchhiking implied driver consent.

Mrs. Torres didn't care. She was done talking teenager. "What are you plans to get her home, Mr. Winchester?"

Dean blinked. That last had been directed at him. "What?"

"If you supply an address, I will supply a ride for Gwen. Unless you have another plan to get her home safely?"

"I am home!" Gwen said. Sam winced, but remained silent in his seat. He hadn't twitched during the entire conversation. As if somewhere inside him a sixteen year old was still frozen in fear.

Dean drew in a deep breath. "Look, lady, Gwen is old enough to decide some things for herself. We aren't going to send her anywhere she doesn't want to go."

"I could have you arrested for kidnapping!" Aggie snapped.

"No you can't!" Gwen's answer was swift and sure. "I came to them all on my own and you know it!"

Dean almost thought he heard a foot stomp on the other end of the line. Yes, Aggie would love to see both him and Sam behind bars. No, she was not going to get her wish. "Mrs. Torres, we need to think about what's best for Gwen. Agreed?"

"Of course." The answer was wary. "That is all I think about. Gwen needs to be at home where I can keep an eye on her and help her."

"I don't want your help!"

Dean held up his hands, and Gwen's mouth snapped shut. "Ladies, please! Mrs. Torres, it won't help to make Gwen go back if she's not ready. She'll just run away again. I have some experience with this. Sam did the same thing." His eyes flicked to his brother. Sam's eyes were narrowed, but still he remained silent. "You can't make her stay."

"I am her guardian. I decide where she lives."

"No." The word cut off Dean's reply. He looked up, startled, and stared at Sam. There was a fierce glint in his eyes. While Gwen and Aggie had been shouting, his little brother had made a decision.

"Excuse me? Who is this?" Aggie demanded.

"This is Sam. I am Gwen's father. That makes me her guardian."

"You have no say here!"

"By law I do. My parental rights were never terminated, were they?"

Dean could hear mad scrambling in the background as the listening cops checked the court records. Mrs. Torres breath stilled, and her stunned silence was all the answer Sam needed. His tone was steady, a deadly calm Dean rarely saw in his brother.

"We wanted to let you know that you don't have to worry about Gwen, Mrs. Torres. She is safe. But we can't sent her back. Gwen is my daughter. I will decide where she lives."

"Yes!" Gwen had landed on Sam's chest with a squeal and wrapped him in a tight hug. Sam wrapped an arm around her, but his expression was wary.

"Gwen, I didn't say-"

"I'll be fine here, Nana!" Gwen bent low over the phone. "You'll see. Maybe you can visit for Christmas."

Christmas? That woman, in the bunker? No! Dean shook his head, but Gwen disconnected the call before they could get into that debate. Gwen gave Sam one last squeeze before bouncing out of his lap. She skipped toward the shower, humming.

Dean stared at his brother. Sam looked as if he'd just picked up a stick of dynamite, and was waiting for the explosion.

"What happened to 'she can't stay'?" Dean asked.

"She can't," Sam said. There was no hesitation, no awkward pause for thought. Sam had made up his mind, and there would be no changing it. If Dean even wanted to change it.

Did he? Could this be Gwen's home?

"But she can't go back there, either."

"So, what does that leave us?" Dean didn't see a third option.

"I have an idea." Sam slipped off his seat, phone in hand. "I need to make a call."

"Yeah, before Aggie sics the Feds on us." Keeping Gwen invited trouble of a kind the Winchesters had not faced for a while. Monsters were easy. Tangling with cops and lawyers had never worked out well for them.

Sam's eyebrows snapped down in worry. "You made sure they couldn't trace the call."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, but I don't think that's going to stop Aggie Torres." All Aggie had to do was never stop looking, and she'd stumble on them sooner or later through sheer dumb luck. Somehow, that woman would find her granddaughter. Dean rubbed the back of his head again.

Sam frowned, thoughtful. "Right. I'll have to plan for that." There was no trace of fear in his tone anymore. That terror that had filled the ride here was gone, replaced by stubborn determination.

Dean stared at the leftover bacon growing cold on the plate. Best to eat it up. He would need the fuel for the battle ahead. Because there was another Winchester family fight brewing, a big one. And when the storm hit, he would be the one to clean up the wreckage.

 **Please Review!**


	13. Call to Ohio, Part II

**Ok, so this probably should have been part of the last chapter. My organization is not as good as usual for this story, which means updates are a little less standard than I usually try to do. Hope you'll still enjoy the story and thanks for reading!**

 **Call to Ohio, Part II**

"What did you do?" Roxy's voice was a banshee's shriek that made Gwen's eardrums quiver. There was no secret text this time, no cautious questions. Roxy had called within hours of the latest fight with Nana, and she was in full-freak-out mode.

Gwen bit the inside of her cheek, though there was no one to hide her smile from. "What happened?"

"First, she kicked all the cops out of her house. They've been basically camping there for a week, but today they ran-I mean, practicing for the 50-yard-dash- _ran_ out of Aggie's house. I think one guy was in the bathroom when she lost it, because he was buttoning his pants as he went. Then, Aggie went to the courthouse. You know those high-heels she has that sound like 'the footsteps of doom?'" Roxy's voice dropped into an imitation British accent.

Gwen rolled her eyes. She was pretty sure Roxy had just quoted something from a movie. Gwen interpreted life through the soundtrack in her mind. Roxy interpreted it through her many, many fandoms. "Yeah, I know the shoes." Nana had never admitted it out loud, but Gwen was pretty sure her grandmother had bought them specifically for the sound they made when clacking against hardwood or tile floors.

"So, Aggie's marching through the courthouse, and everyone can hear her coming." Aggie Torres had perfected the high-heel march decades before Gwen's birth. "They all ducked for cover, it was worse than the post-soccer-match rush for the ice cream stand." Roxy would know. Her mother worked at the courthouse, and was the town's biggest gossip. "She marched right up to the State's Attorney's office, and they vanished into one of those private rooms where you can't even hear through the door."

"Uh-oh." Gwen felt her stomach flop. "Dad said he's my guardian, because his parent rights were never revoked."

"Oh!" Roxy was silent for a moment. "That makes so much sense! The attorney was white as a sheet when they left the office, and Aggie looked mad." Because if Sam Winchester was Gwen's legal guardian, there was nothing Aggie could do about it. Gwen had checked, before she left. Roxy continued. "Remember when she put Ellie's Sorghum Shop out of business?"

Gwen swallowed. She felt a little bit sorry for the attorney. He wouldn't be keeping his job much longer. "That bad?"

"That bad." Roxy drew in a deep breath. "So, what's it like there?"

"It's good." Gwen pulled an envelope out of her pocket. It was addressed to Visa, but the credit card application was for one Dean Evigan. Gwen was pretty sure no one by that name lived here. The return address wasn't for the bunker, either, but for a PO box in Iowa. "I think I figured out what they do for money. Definitely illegal."

"What?" Roxy would find out, somehow, whether Gwen told her or not.

"Credit card fraud."

This time, Gwen knew to hold the phone far from her ear as Roxy let out another squeal. "Oh. My. God! I'm telling you, Gwen. It's just like the Supernatural books. Two brothers named Sam and Dean. A '67 Chevy Impala. It has to be."

"Roxy, you know that stuff isn't real."

"Yeah, ok, so minus the monsters and stuff. But maybe Chuck Shirley met them and based the characters off of them."

"Maybe." Gwen grimaced at the thought. She'd tried to read one of those books, but it wasn't her style. "They do have a lot of guns with weird bullets. And machetes."

Roxy sucked in an excited breath.

"They say they're in 'pest control.' Try to figure out what that means."

"I'm on it." Anyone else, and Gwen would have thought they were teasing. Roxy wasn't. "Keep me posted on Nana."

"You know she's onto us. I had to buy a Wal-Mart phone just to make this call, because she's probably had mine bugged."

"What did she say when you told her you had a message from me?"

"Oh, I'm 'grounded.'" Gwen could hear the air quotes. "Which means Mom pretended to yell at me, and I pretended to be sorry. And I can't be seen in public for the next month. You owe me."

"I know, I know."

"I want a ride in that car."

"What?"

"You heard me. I want a ride. Do they have their initials carved in the back seat?"

"I-didn't see any."

"Check. For me. Ok?"

"Yeah. Ok." Gwen rolled her eyes, cut the call, and lay back in her bed to stare up at the ceiling. Had her father and uncle inspired a book series? What did they do? She had her entire senior year to try and figure it out.

 _I'm on top of the world! Been holding it in for a while. Been waiting on this since a child._ Gwen's head bounced to the tune, she raised her hands over her head, and let out a shout. He had claimed her. Dad had claimed her, had stood up to Nana. Of course, he didn't know Aggie Torres' reputation. But it didn't matter. Now that her dad had claimed her, Nana had no say in her life. Gwen was free. _I've been waiting to smile, been holding it in for a while._ Gwen could feel the smile splitting her face in half. This might be the best day of her life.

 **Lyrics are from On Top of the World by Imagine Dragons**


	14. Smoothies, Chocolate, and a GPS

**Smoothies, Chocolate, and a GPS**

Two grocery runs in as many days. Something had changed at house Winchester. Something female had become part of this family. Dean allowed himself a small smile as he unloaded ice cream, strawberries, and bananas into the refrigerator. On the cabinet shelf he placed a large quantity of chocolate. It would be needed later.

Though Dean had no illusions that sugar and cocoa beans could stop the eruption that would follow Sam's announcement to Gwen that she couldn't stay. Because it would be Sam who would tell her. It was Sam who wanted it to happen.

Not that Dean had a good counter-argument, which was why he had kept his mouth shut.

Dean looked at the full refrigerator, and closed his eyes. Family. The most important thing in the world. The one thing he could never have-a wife and kids of his own. Gwen was the closest he would get.

Might as well enjoy these few days before she left.

Enjoyment was the furthest thing from Sam's mind. Dean found his little brother hunched over his laptop. One of these days, the screen was going to burn a hole in his retinas. Research was part of the job, sure, but Sam had always taken it a little too far. Dean liked to punch, smash, and kill when he was frustrated. Sam liked to research. He sifted through books and websites, gobbling in information with the same ferocity Dean used on a punching bag.

This was no different. Rows of text marched past his brother's face, and Sam was so intent he didn't notice Dean's entrance until he leaned over to squint at the screen.

"Ohio paternity law, huh?"

Sam gave a small start, and his eyes flicked to his brother. "Yeah, you know. In case Aggie tries to take this to court. We should know where we stand."

"And we should know where Gwen is." Dean looked around the empty library. There were many, many things in this bunker he wasn't prepared to explain to the innocent teenager girl with the big puppy-eyes.

Sam glanced up with a frown, but no trace of worry. "Oh, I think she was watching TV with Cas. Something about Glee…"

Dean checked his watch. "Cas might be willing to watch TV 24/7, but I doubt Gwen will. Do you want her to find the dungeon?"

That brought Sam out of his chair. "We told her not to go wandering around."

Dean just raised one eyebrow. How did Sam miss these things? She was a teenager in a new place. A new place full of cool stuff. What else would she do?

"Right." Sam closed his laptop lid. "I guess we'd better-"

"Aiieee!" The squeal rang out from a distant hallway, igniting every fighting reflex Dean possessed. He barreled through the doorway, gun out and ready, eyes scanning for danger. Sam was inches behind him, knife raised. They nearly collided in the storeroom door. Gwen stood before a low shelf, a box in her hands, staring with wide eyes at the contents.

Dean shifted his stance, and calculated how long it would take to get to the salt and lighter. It was their best bet, if the box was cursed. The way Gwen clutched it, her entire body tense with energy, it was more than just a shrunken head or severed hand.

Gwen shrieked again. "Oh. My. Gosh! This is AWESOME! Dad, these are-" She lifted the cardboard box and stare straight down the barrel of Dean's gun. Her eyes flicked from the firearm to the knife in Sam's hand, and she took a small step back.

Dean drew in a deep breath of relief and lowered the gun. "You're ok?"

Gwen's eyebrows drew together, confused. "I'm fine. I'm more than fine. You have-" She dropped her eyes to the box in her hands. "This is so cool."

Dean considered for a moment, and put his gun away. Sam had already pocketed his knife.

"What's cool?"

"Hah. You-you don't-" Gwen rocked back on her heels, and her breath started coming in small, short gasps. "You really don't know?" She put her hand to her chest and took a long, deep breath.

"No. What is it?" Dean looked into the box. It was full of white tubs riddled with small ridges.

"They're phonograph records."

Dean blinked. "Come again?"

Sam rolled his eyes. He knew exactly the word that had come to Dean's mind. "Phone-o-graph, Dean. Not-"

"I knew that wasn't what she said!"

"What did you think I said?" Gwen asked.

"Nothing." Dean put his hand in his pockets and made a mental note to find a better hiding place for his pornography. "So, those play music?"

Gwen nodded and patted a wooden box next to the empty space on the shelf. It had a metal apparatus to hold the tubes, and a long funnel that curled upwards off the top.

"This is an Edison phonograph, which is cool all by itself. But these-" Gwen took a deep breath and giggled, bouncing on her toes. "Some of these are recordings that everyone thought were lost for good. Judy Garland. Frank Sinatra. George Bohee."

"George Bohee?" Dean narrowed his eyes, trying to place the name. "I don't think I've heard his stuff, but I've heard of him."

"His recordings don't exist anymore. Or." Gwen grinned and rattled the box. "Everyone thought they didn't exist."

A small smile twitched at Sam's face. "You know, Dean, she might know more about music than you."

"You two-you didn't know-" Gwen closed her eyes and shook her head. "You're rich and you don't even know it! You live in the middle of about a million dollars worth of antiques, and you fill out applications for fake credit cards?"

"Who said anything about fake credit cards? That would be illegal." The better question was, how did she know?

Gwen reached into her back pocket and pulled out an envelope addressed in Dean's handwriting. "Yeah, Mr. Evigan."

"Hey!" Dean snatched the envelope. "That was supposed to go in the mail!" He considered Gwen with new eyes. She had sticky fingers. What other tricks lurked up her sleeves?

Gwen set the box of recordings aside and crossed her arms, fixing them both with a stern look. "You may as well tell me. I'm going to live with you, I should know what you do."

Dean turned to Sam, who bit his lip and drew in a deep breath. "Look, Gwen, you're not going to be living here."

"But you told Nana-"

"Yes, yes I did and I meant it. I am going to take care of you and make sure you have a safe place to live. It just can't be here."

Gwen blinked. "You have another home?"

"No. We don't have a home." Sam ran his hands through his hair as the look on Gwen's face slowly turned down. "This is a work place, it's a warehouse and library. It's no place for a kid to grow up."

"I don't mind! I know the school here will be small, but-"

"Gwen, you can't go to the school here! If certain people found out who you are…" Sam shook his head. "Our job is dangerous, and quitting isn't an option. Which means that you can't stay. It's not safe."

Gwen's eyes were wide now, brimming with tears. Her cheeks flushed, and the box in her hands trembled.

"Sam, we haven't decided anything for sure yet!" Dean growled. Sam was at least supposed to warn his brother before dropping the news. "I'm the head of this family-"

"I'm her father-"

"It's my life!" Gwen's shrill voice rose above theirs, accompanied by a stomping foot. The box tumbled from her hands. She shrieked again, clamped her hands over her mouth, and dropped to grab the box again. "No! Oh no." She carefully checked each tube, turning the over in her hands. Sam bent down to help her, but bounced off her glare.

"Don't worry, Gwen. We'll make sure you have safe place-"

"I want to be with you!" She took in another deep breath, and the tears stopped. Gwen gathered the box of records in her arms, then turned and placed them on the shelf. She was still, silent, and Dean felt his guts clench. Not good. Gwen turned to give them a sharp look, then walked past them, out the door toward her room.

"Damn it Sam! You were supposed to talk to me before you told her." Dean was already in motion. He didn't follow Gwen, instead turning the other direction.

"Dean, you knew this was coming. I don't know why you were surprised-" Sam paused, mouth open, and stared as Dean threw the switch to put the bunker in lockdown. All around them the lights flickered, and the distant sound of dead-bold slamming home echoed through the halls. "Why did you put is in lockdown?"

Wasn't it obvious? "She's your daughter, Sam. She's going to run."

"She went to her room. She doesn't have anywhere to go-"

"Agghhh!" Gwen's shout rang out through the bunker again, followed by a sharp banging. The sound of a sneaker kicked against a metal door, most likely. "Let me out!"

"She's your daughter," Dean said again, but Sam was already halfway to the front door.

"Gwen!" Sam flinched as Gwen pounded her backpack against the door. "Gwen please! We need to talk about this!"

"There's nothing to talk about!" Gwen shrieked. "You don't want me, so I'm leaving!" Sam ducked as Gwen lifted the backpack again.

"It's not about what I want, Gwen, it's about what's safe!"

Gwen paused, blinking. "Why? What do you do? Fake credit cards aren't dangerous."

Sam pressed his lips together and shook his head. "We do a lot more illegal stuff. Stuff that I can't tell you about, in case the wrong people try to talk to you."

Gwen sniffed and adjusted her grip on her backpack. "I don't care if it's illegal, I just-"

"You want to go to college, right? Get a good job? Have a nice life? If you get mixed up in what we do, you can't have any of that." Sam had his hands held up as if Gwen here holding a loaded gun instead of a backpack, and stepped forward cautiously. "Please, you need to trust me on this. I can find you a safe place to stay. I promise, I won't just dump you and never visit again. But you can't stay here. Not until you've finished high school at least."

Gwen bit her lip, eyes narrowed. "Where am I going?"

"Sioux Falls, South Dakota. You'll live with a couple of other girls who also lost their moms." Sam talked as if the decision had already been made, but as far as Dean knew, Jody was on vacation in her cabin that had no cell reception, and had yet to return Sam's call.

Gwen looked at the door, as if she wanted to hit it again. But her voice was oddly calm when she asked, "When do we leave? Plan on getting rid of me today?"

"Tomorrow," Dean said. Sam frowned, but Dean didn't back down. He stepped forward, catching Gwen's eyes with his own. "We're not getting rid of you. We're taking you somewhere safe. We'll leave tomorrow."

Gwen nodded. She ducked her eyes, and hurried past them toward her room. Dean closed his eyes for a moment. The crisis hadn't been averted, only delayed. He pulled a package out of his pocket and held it up for Sam to see. The final purchase from today's shopping run was a set of GPS tracking devices. "What do you think, shoes, backpack, or both?"

"Is that really necessary?" Sam's face was pale and dazed, the same look he got after having been slammed into a wall. Dean had seen that happen often enough to know. Always, his brother managed to be surprised. He hadn't expected an exploding-Gwen. Served him right. Dean had been through this once before. _May you have a child exactly like you._ Was that how the old curse went?

"It is completely necessary, Sam." It was only a matter of time before Gwen tried to run again. And Jody didn't have a lockdown-mode in her suburban home. "I say shoes. I've got enough to put one in each pair. No matter what else she takes when she goes, she'll have to wear her shoes." Now, how would he get to them without Gwen noticing? Contemplating the challenge was easier then thinking about the drive that was to come.

 _Tomorrow's getting harder, make no mistake. Luck ain't enough, you gotta make your own breaks._

 **Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please review! Yes, Sam is sending Gwen to Jody's. No, the story doesn't end there. Not if Gwen has anything to say about it. How can a teenager get the attention of her traveling father? Will Aggie Torres let well enough alone, or try to worm her way back in? Wait and see.**

 **Please review!**


	15. Choices

**Choices**

"Mija, why so sad?" Gwen could almost feel her mother's breath against her ear, hear her soft voice whisper a question of concern. Her mother would bring out a brush, and work it through Gwen's hair while Gwen talked about whatever troubled her now. A soccer defeat, a teacher at school, a band who had changed their sound. By the time she let the words out, her hair was soft and shiny and her chest felt free and light.

They would have hot chocolate, the good, spicy kind they got from her abuelo, and the world would be alright.

But now, nothing was right. Her mother was gone. Her home was gone. And now, her father didn't want her. All Gwen wanted to do was scream and kick, but that hadn't stopped her heart feeling like a piece had been cut out.

Gwen clamped her eyes shut. She didn't want to think about that. She wasn't here to remember what she had lost. She was here to find her family. To _be_ with her family. It was the only thing she wanted.

It was the only thing she couldn't have. Sam had decided. He was in charge, he would make the decision, and his decision was that he didn't want her. He would send her to live with a stranger, and Gwen would go. Because she had no choice. She didn't have anywhere else to go.

 _Well, you be the Captain and I'll be no-one. If I tread upon your feet just say so._ _Did I forget to thank you for the ride? I hadn't tried. I tend to run away and hide_.

Hiding sounded like a good plan right now. She would burrow under the covers and refuse to speak to anyone ever again.

A soft tapping sounded at her door. Gwen quickly dried her eyes, but knew she couldn't hide the redness there. "Come in." Her voice sounded teary even to her own ears.

Uncle Dean entered cautiously, but didn't comment on her crying. He had two dishes in hand, which he held up with a hopeful smile. "I got hot fudge sundaes. Can't tell Sam, he'll throw a fit if you eat dessert before dinner. But I got the fudge at the gas station in town, there's a local woman who makes it from scratch."

Sugar. Chocolate. Gwen's stomach jumped up and said, 'yes, please!" She accepted the bowl silently, and her taste buds wriggle with delight as the hot fudge hit them. "Mmm."

Dean smiled, already halfway through his own dish. "Right? If there's one thing I know, it's good food."

Gwen licked her spoon clean, looking from Dean to the dish of ice cream. "You know, you can't bribe me into not being mad at you."

"You could pretend it worked."

Gwen snorted. "Is that how you solve your problems? Pretend it's ok?"

Dean raised his eyes to the ceiling for a moment, then nodded. "Yes. Generally. At least, I don't let them get in the way of other things." He filled his mouth with another spoonful of sundae. They ate in silence for a few moments. Dean shifted slightly, as if waiting for something.

Gwen drew in a deep breath. "I haven't even been here for two days! I don't use too much hot water. I don't eat too much food. I can pay for my own groceries! I'll go to bed whenever you say lights out, and keep my music quiet enough no one will hear. It's not like I've been arrested or graffitied your home or barfed all over the car."

Dean turned to give her a sharp look, but now that the words were flowing, they would not be stopped.

"He barely looks at me. He barely says two words at a time when I'm in the room. And then he decides I have to go? He doesn't know me yet! He doesn't know what I need."

"I thought you were happy that he stepped in and told Aggie he would take care of you." Dean's tone was cautious.

"Exactly! That was awesome! I thought we were finally getting somewhere!" It wouldn't hurt so much now, if he'd just turned her away from the start. Would it? "Then he leaves me to watch TV with that weird trench coat guy because he's got to do research. I know Nana can be scary, but I told him! I looked it all up before I left. She's only my legal guardian if he doesn't want to be. I asked a lawyer and everything. Nana can't sue him or put him in jail or send the police after me anymore. It's safe. We're safe. You've got plenty of rooms. Why? Why can't I stay?"

Gwen looked to her uncle for an answer. He continued to eat his ice cream, letting the pause stretch.

"Anything else you need to say?" His tone was calm, as if he was used to this.

Gwen drew in another deep breath, but there was only one word left. "Why? Why doesn't he want me?"

"There are two things that you need to understand." Dean used the same tone he'd used when explaining how to clean her gun. Matter-of-fact and allowing no argument. "First, Sam doesn't not want you. What we want in this family doesn't often have much to do with what we get. Sam wants what's best for you. So do I. Second, he wasn't exaggerating when he said it's not good for you here. We do illegal stuff. We do dangerous stuff. Sometimes, people get hurt. Sam's broken his arm twice. We attended at least twenty different schools, and that was just high school. I know you want to be with family. I get that, believe me. But you don't know how we live, and once you get in too deep, you won't be able to get out."

"Out of what? What do you do?" It would be easier if she had a clear reason. One she understood.

Dean considered her for a moment. "You know those Supernatural books that led you to the website that led you to us?"

Gwen nodded warily. "Yeah."

"Well, they're all true. We are the Sam and Dean of Supernatural."

A little ball of fury exploded in her chest. "I'm serious!" Gwen smacked the mattress with her fist. "I want to know."

Dean collected her empty ice cream bowl and levered himself up off the bed. "No. You don't." His tone was casual, but there was something in his words that chilled her.

Everyone had warned Gwen that her father could be a criminal. Mom, Nana, even Roxy agreed. Grandpa Winchester had been a drifter who dropped his kid off in town for two weeks before moving on. You didn't move around like that if you were doing honest work.

Sam had been young, younger than Gwen, with plenty of opportunities to change his life. He could be anyone, do anything. Or he could be just like his father. A con man or a thief, who knew? The pile of money Grandpa Winchester had given Mom after Nana tracked him down mean he was into _something_. It was exciting to think about, to assemble the possibilities, each more unlikely than the next.

Because the possibility of her father actually being a dangerous criminal had always been just that. A possibility. As distant as the idea of Justin Beiber taking her to the prom. It was the sort of thing that filled your daydreams because you knew it _could_ happen, if the stars aligned. But really, it couldn't. Wouldn't.

And yet it had.

 _I don't care_. She had been ready to accept a life of crime. She didn't care what he did, she just wanted her dad.

But then Sam-Dad-had brought reality into her carefully crafted fantasy with a few short words. No school. No job. Nothing resembling normal. None of the things that Gwen had always assumed would be part of her life could happen if she was an accessory to-whatever it was they did. And she would be an accessory, tried as an adult as if she had committed the crime herself. Just for knowing about it, and not turning them in. Gwen had looked it up.

She lay back in her bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering what a prison room would feel like. She didn't want to find out. Not really.

o0o

 _You can't take care of her_. Aggie's words chased through Sam's thoughts, followed by Gwen's eyes, thrown wide as if he had stabbed her. Her shrill cry of rage and her desperate assault on the bunker's door haunted him. And Dean had just stood there, silent and unsurprised. How had he known? Sam had never done anything so reckless, so wildly terrifying.

Had he?

The memories of old fights with Dad were a blur now, a mess of frustration mingled with regret. Sam had been angry, yes. He'd said things that he knew would hurt his father. But Gwen had been-more. She had been wild, hurt and angry in a way that reminded Sam of a trapped and injured animal.

Because she was hurting, but not because of his decision. He had crushed her hopes, but there was more simmering under the surface. No, he'd only provided the spark to light the gasoline. And why shouldn't she be primed to explode? She'd lost her mother, and then Aggie had forced Gwen out of her home and into a life where she had no choice but to follow the rules or run away.

Sam remembered clearly what it felt like to have no choice.

 _You can't take care of her_.

Aggie was right, one hundred percent. Sam could provide food and shelter, but she couldn't give Gwen what she needed. A stable home. A safe place to grieve. A chance to reconnect with the world that seemed empty and harsh without her mother in it. Sam could not give her that, not while on the road, hunting.

Neither could Aggie, with her rules and her desire to be in control.

Sam knew of only one place that might-might start to help heal the gaping would that must be gnawing at Gwen's soul. He checked his phone, but there were still no calls from Jody.

"Hot fudge sundae?" Dean held up a bowl invitingly. "I got the good stuff!"

"Maybe after dinner."

"Uh-huh." Dean shook his head, his usual response to Sam's health-food habits. Sam noted two bowls in Dean's hands, both empty.

"Did you give Gwen ice cream?"

"Chocolate, Sam. You've lived with women before. Chocolate is essential." Dean nodded his head toward the bedrooms. "She's all yours."

Sam looked toward the empty corridor. Right.

Music drifted from Gwen's open door, a female voice singing with deep fury to an angry beat.

"Iron bars and big ole' cars won't run me out of town. You can lock me out, you can scream and shout, you can try to change your name, But at the end of the day, I'll take you a way, Like a force 10 hurricane."

It didn't sound good. Sam tapped on the door and nudged it open. Gwen glared at him from within a cocoon of blankets. There was still a bit of fudge on her lips. Sam reached into the dresser and pulled out a Kleenex, which he held out in front of him like a white flag of surrender.

"Um-you've got a bit of chocolate-" He tapped his lip.

Gwen accepted the Kleenex and mirrored Sam's motion, wiping away the chocolate. "What do you want? Uncle Dean at least brought sweets." But she fiddled with something under the blanket, and the music stopped.

"I just want to talk about this. I'm new at this dad thing. I could have picked a better way to tell you."

"You could let me stay."

Sam approached the bed slowly, and Gwen did not protest when he perched on the corner. "Look, I get that you're mad. I spent a lot of time being mad at my dad when I was your age."

"I bet. He and Nana got on great."

Sam raised an eyebrow. He must have mis-heard that. He was very, very glad Aggie and John Winchester had never met. On opposing sides, the fight would have been terrible. In the same team…no one else would stand a chance. "Yeah, I bet they would have gotten along just fine. But the one thing I remember the most about what I wanted was a choice. Dad liked to give orders, and he just assumed I wanted the same life he did. He didn't give me any choices."

Gwen's eyes were fixed on him. Sam continued, "So I want to make sure you know you have a choice."

"My choice is to stay with you."

Sam shook his head. "That's not an option, Gwen. There are a few things that my Dad got right, and one of those was trying to do what was best for us. This life isn't good for you. It's not what you need right now."

"I need you!" Her words were fire, but Sam kept his voice calm, soft.

"You need your mom, Gwen, and I can't bring her back for you."

Gwen's eyes were wide and suddenly full. Her face vanished into the cocoon. Sam placed his hand tentatively on what he thought was her shoulder, and she scooted sideways to collapse in his lap. Her body was shuddering, but her sobs were silent. Held inside. As if she wasn't willing to let the pain out.

"What are my choices?" She pulled the blanket away from her face.

 _I have no idea_. Sam's brain churned to think of options. "Well, there is Jody's home at Sioux Falls. She has two other teens living there, you'd be the youngest. She's the sheriff, so your grandmother can't complain that she's not responsible enough to take care of you. And she's a good friend. We swing by her place when we can." Sam paused. "There's a place out in New York you could try, but there wouldn't be any other girls there. Or you could go back to Jackson if you have a friend that will take you. Aggie doesn't have any legal right to interfere, not once we show up with the DNA test."

"She can still make my life miserable. And yours too." Gwen sniffed and sat up. "Besides. I don't want to be there. The way people look at me. It's just-hard."

Sam nodded. "Ok. Well, we don't have to rush out of here tomorrow. We can take a few days to figure out a better option. What about your grandfather?"

"Ha!" Gwen let out a choked laugh. "That would-not work well." She looked down and fiddled with the blanket. "Can I talk to Jody? Before I decide?"

"Yeah. Sure. That'd be just fine."

Gwen smiled. "You know, you could get good at this 'dad' thing."

Sam felt something warm flutter in his chest. "Give me some time. I've never done this before. Ok?"

Gwen nodded. "Ok."

 **Lyrics are from Kasey Chambers, The Captain and Barricades and Brick Walls.**

 **Thank you so much for reading. I love reviews!**


	16. Girl Stuff, Demon Stuff

**Girl Stuff, Demon Stuff**

"Um—Uncle Dean." Gwen found her uncle in the garage, tucked up under the hood of the car, hands black with grease but with a peaceful look on his face. As if he were doing yoga and not cussing at the engine block. Gwen scrunched her nose in distaste. Cars were good to get from point A to point B, but she didn't even like having to pump gas. Oh, for the day when someone would invent a car that didn't need maintenance, didn't needs gas, and hopefully, could drive itself.

Gwen's eye snagged on a small motorcycle parked to one side. Ohhh. Now that looked like fun. Flying down the road with nothing but the wind in her face. As close to flying as you could get. So Roxy said. Roxy's mom had bought her a motorcycle for her fifteenth birthday, on the theory that her daughter could learn to drive on back roads and empty fields and wipe out as many times as she wanted before she was old enough to actually get her license.

Gwen was rarely jealous. But in that moment, she had felt a little green.

Dean pulled his head out of the gears and wiped his hands on a rag that was almost as greasy as his fingers. "What can I do for you?"

Gwen pulled her eyes away from the motorcycle. "Um, I need to go to the store."

"Need more groceries?" Dean gave her a surprised look. "Make up a list."

"No. I need to go, and pick out my own stuff."

Dean paused for a moment. "Girl stuff?"

Gwen nodded. A small grin crept over Dean's face. "Sure." He raised his voice. "Sammy! Gwen needs a grocery run!"

Sam appeared in the doorway to the bunker. "Ok. Jody called."

Gwen swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, she's happy to talk to you. I'll send you her number." He ran his thumbs across his phone and Gwen felt her own vibrate. Jody. Right.

"Ok, but I really need to get to the store first."

"Uh—sure—ok." Sam gestured to a plain brown truck parked with its nose in the corner, as if it had somehow been shamed. "Let's go."

The truck was bouncy and smelled like leaking gas. Even Gwen could tell that it was in worse shape than anything else in the garage—but then, everything else in the garage was over fifty years old and didn't look like they got used anymore at all anyway.

"So, how often do you visit Jody?" She might agree to go live with this woman, but Sam was still her dad, her family.

Sam shrugged evasively. "Every once in a while."

Not nearly good enough. "Once a week?"

Sam glanced sideways at her. He knew she wasn't going to like the answer. "No. More like—once or twice a year."

"Oh." No, not a good answer at all.

"We don't have much reason to go that way. But, with a reason—" Her dad glanced at her again. "We'll get there more often. I promise."

He sounded like he meant it. But Gwen knew from experience that meaning something and doing something weren't always the same thing. "You'll call once a week, and visit once a month."

Sam was silent for a moment. It made her skin prickle in annoyance. She couldn't figure him out. First he acted like he wanted her, but sometimes looked like he was going to throw up at the sight of her. He promised to take care of her, but made plans to send her away. He wrapped his arms around her, making her feel warm and safe, then shut her out in this stony silence. She felt like a tennis ball being smacked around the court, with no safe place to land.

Did he care about her, or was she just a duty to be fulfilled?

 _There is a design, an alignment, a cry of my heart to see the beauty of love as it was made to be._ She felt the ache where her heart was missing something important.

His reply was a hope and a warning. "I'll call, Gwen, but our job makes us travel a lot."

Well, she knew that much was true. His car was the most widely-traveled of all the cars on Impala watch.

"How often will you call?" Gwen was not going to be left waiting, wondering, hoping. "Once a week?"

His eyes flicked away from the road for a moment, and she thought she saw a kind of fondness there. She hoped. "Ok. Deal."

The small convenience store was attached to the only gas station in town. Sam followed her closely until she headed straight for the back wall and pink, blue, and yellow feminine hygiene products. He stopped, and his cheeks turned a little pink. Gwen was a little surprised Uncle Dean hadn't come, just for this moment.

"Oh. Right. Um—I've got some other things to pick up. I'll meet you outside." Sam took a hasty step backwards and vanished down another aisle.

Gwen giggled, grabbed what she needed, and went to check out. Sam was still hovering in the next aisle order, and had several pay-by-the-minute phones in had. Gwen leaned back against the truck to wait, closing her eyes and letting the autumn sun bake her until a shadow fell across her face.

"Hello, little lady. I haven't seen you around town before. Staying with the Winchesters, are you?" The voice was smooth and oily and immediately made Gwen's skin crawl. She opened her eyes to glare at the man standing between her and the sun. His skin was tan and leathery, his hands calloused from work. A typical farmer. Except there was something in his posture that was not right. His eyes flashed black.

"Yes," Gwen said cautiously. Her hand traveled toward the gun in her pocket. "What's it to you?"

The man smiled, a shark-toothed expression more at home on a used car salesman than a farmer. "Just keeping an eye out. You must be pretty special, if they let you into their secret hideout."

 _Pretty special._ The words should have made her happy, but somehow, it just made her more uncomfortable. Gwen wrapped her palm around the gun. But she didn't have a reason to use it, other than a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach and the bad smell, like rotten eggs, which was assaulting her nose.

"What's your story?" The man tilted his head, like a snake considering its prey. Gwen wasn't able to take a step back; the truck was in the way.

"I'd rather not say. My da-Sam will be out soon. Is he going to be happy to see you talking to me?"

"Your da-Dad?" A slow, eager smile spread across the man's face. "Has a Winchester reproduced?" He stepped closer, holding out his hand to grab at the back of her neck. Black smoke curled out of his mouth, like an CGI creature for the spirit world.

Except this wasn't a movie, and that couldn't be CGI.

Gwen grabbed the man's hand and twisted, hard. When the man yelped in pain, she shoved, so he toppled over his own feet. She pulled her gun out in the same moment, and dropped into a crouch, the barrel pointed at his head.

"Don't touch me." She couldn't believe that her hands were steady, that her voice didn't crack. She had never done that outside of self-defense class, but the endless drills did their job. Gwen's body responded despite the fear pumping through her veins.

"Dad!" she yelled.

Sam was already running out of the store. He dropped a brown paper back and pulled out his own gun.

The man with the black eyes cackled from the ground. "Too late, Winchester! Crowley will hear about this." Then, he vomited black smoke into the air.

Words flowed out of Sam's mouth. Strange words that didn't make any sense. The black smoke collapsed back into the man, and he squealed in terror. Sam bore down on him, knife in hand, and grabbed the man's wrist. He carved a symbol into the man's skin, a circle with a small line through one side.

"You're not going anywhere," Sam said. He looked around at the empty parking lot, and motioned for Gwen to put away her gun. He grabbed the man by the belt and hoisted him to the bed of the truck, then climbed in after him. Sam put a knife to the man's throat and tossed Gwen his keys. "I'm sorry. I wanted to keep you away from all of this. But you need to drive us home. Can you do that?"

Gwen felt the cold bite of metal in her palm and stared at the not-a-man in the truck. His eyes were pure black, and he let out another cackle. "You can't keep her a secret forever, Winchester."

"You won't touch her." Sam pushed the knife deeper against the man's throat, but when the blade broke skin, there was no blood, only a golden glow. Sam turned his attention back to Gwen, his voice calm and soothing. It was a strange combination, his body ready to commit murder and his voice ready to ease pain. "I know it's scary, I know you're confused, but right now you need to drive and I'll explain when we get home. Please."

Please. He hadn't asked anything of her before. Gwen's hands closed around the keys, she nodded, and climbed into the driver's seat.

Gwen didn't let her thoughts spin. Didn't let herself ask the questions. She just watched the road, because what was in the back wasn't something that she wanted. Wasn't something she had been ready for. Wasn't _possible_. So Gwen kept her eyes forward, and drove, while the radio in her mind played a gothic waltz. She had walked into a world from which there was no escape.

o0o

"Dean, are you planning on sending Gwen to high school?"

Dean looked up from his snack, surprised to see Cas in the kitchen. The angel wasn't interested in any of the food, of course. His eyes still looked a little bloodshot, and his entire face was frowning.

"Um-yeah. She's a teenager, that's what teenagers do."

Cas shook his head. "I have been learning a lot about high school from Netflix, it sounds like a very dangerous place."

Dean continued to eat his cold enchiladas. He'd been too lazy and too hungry to wait for the microwave to do its job. "Oh yeah? Me and Sammy survived. It's a right of passage. You don't get to an adult until you survive high school."

"But she will be expected to eat at a cafeteria with terrible food, and you never know what the cooks actually put in it. She could have a slushie thrown in her face, and I know they are very hard to clean up."

"You're worried about slushies? What have you been watching?" What have I missed? Dean prided himself on keeping up with everything on TV, the good, the bad, and the just plain stupid.

Cas opened his mouth, but Dean's phone vibrated an incoming message from Sam on his emergency, don't ignore this, need-help-now line. **Meet me in the garage.**

They had gone on a grocery run. A _tampon_ run. What could happen?

 _Have you ever seen the rain fall down on a sunny day?_

Dean nearly sprinted to the garage, Cas hard on his heels. He heard the truck before he saw it. The engine hesitated and then groaned, slowing and speeding up as if the person driving wasn't sure how fast to go in the small confines of their indoor parking space.

Sammy wasn't that bad of a driver. If he was, he would never, ever, ever touch the keys of the Impala. But Sam wasn't driving. He was crouched in the bed, and Dean didn't need to see the figure he hovered over to know it was a monster, demon, enemy of some kind. Which meant that Gwen was driving.

She stared over the dash, knuckles white against the steering wheel, and veered a little to the side. A little too much.

 _Screeeeech!_ The truck ground against the wall for a moment before Gwen righted herself and slid the beast into its narrow parking space in the corner.

Driving lessons, Dean made a mental note on his to-do list. Except Gwen wasn't going to be around for lessons. He knew that the moment he caught sight of Sam's face; jaw clenched, eyes glinting with an intense protective instinct.

"Sorry, sorry!" Gwen jumped out of the truck and circled to see the damage in the other side. There was a panicked edge to her voice. What had she seen?

Dean shrugged. "No worries, Sam boosted that from a scrap yard a few months back. There's more where she came from." He kept his tone calm, as if this sort of thing happened every day. Which it did.

"Oh. Ok. I'm used to small cars." She shifted, arms swinging as if unsure what to do next.

"It's ok," Sam said. He hoisted a man to his feet, who looked like a local but glared like a demon caught in a trap.

"What are you going to do with me? You can't kill me."

Gwen flinched. As if she wasn't sure they wouldn't kill him.

Which was true, Dean realized. If Gwen hadn't been present, the demon would likely already be dead. Although, it might not be Gwen's presence. It might be Sam's new rules, trying to not to kill demons if the host was still alive.

Which left them with an interesting puzzle. They couldn't let the thing smoke out and run to Crowley. No. It knew about Gwen. But they couldn't kill the host.

Dean suppressed a groan. _Oh, Sammy, what have you gotten us into_?

"Gwen, go wait in your room." Dean had never heard a better impression of John Winchester giving orders.

Of course Gwen refused to obey. Her mouth clamped shut, her chin worked in a stubborn circle. Dean had never seen a better impression of teenage Sam. "What are you going to do? You promised you would explain."

It was like déjà vu. Dean had definitely heard this conversation before.

"After we take care of this." Sam nodded to the demon.

"You can't do anything, Winchester. You have to kill me, which is against your little code, or you have to let me go, and I tell everyone about her." The demon nodded to Gwen.

"Move." Sam's command was for Gwen and the demon. He marched forward, the demon tripping in front of him. Gwen stood rooted in her spot.

"Gwen." Dean put a hand on her shoulder to catch her attention. He kept his voice soft and gentle. "I think Sam's right. You need to stay in your room until we call you. Lock the door. We don't want this guy to get loose."

"I want to know what is happening."

"After the dangerous man who wouldn't hesitate to kill you is locked up tight in the dungeon, and we make sure none of his friends are on their way. Ok?"

Gwen's eyes were wide as they could get, and it didn't look like her voice was quite working. Dean moved to the Impala and rummaged in the trunk until he came up with an anti-demon-possession charm. He placed it over Gwen's head. "Don't take this off."

Gwen nodded, still speechless. Dean gave her a small push in the direction of the bedrooms, grabbed the holy water and salt, and went to find Sam in the dungeon. First things first, they had to deal with the demon. Dean made sure to hit the locks on his way through. Just in case his niece decided to make a run for it again.

With demons on the prowl, that was definitely not an option.

 _I see a bad moon rising. I see trouble on the way…_

 **Lyrics are from Sigh No More by Mumford and Sons, the gothic waltz reference is to Enchanted Ballroom by Derek and Brandon Fletcher, Dean's songs are Have You Ever Seen the Rain and Bad Moon Rising by Creedence Clearwater Revival**

 **Thanks for reading. Please review!**


	17. The truth, if you dare

**The truth, if you dare**

Sam was cold. His fingers tingled, his spine crawled. It was as if someone had dumped a gallon of ice over his back, despite the fact his shirt was bone-dry. It had crashed over him in a wave at the store, and hadn't left yet. He stared at the demon, now tied to a chair in the center of a devil's trap. A minute later, and who knows what would have happened. Gwen's pistol would not have done a thing to save her. She didn't know what she was up against.

 _Nobody ever tells me anything_! Sam couldn't count the number of times he had used that refrain as a child. Even more than moving all the time, he had hated the not-knowing. First, the world of monsters had been hidden from him. Then, the yellow-eyed demon's plans for him. Always, his family tried to protect him by hiding the truth.

Always, Sam hated it.

 _I will not be my father_. Sam didn't know if his way would be better, but it would be different.

Cas held a glass jar in his hands. White angelic light burst from his palms for a second, and when it was gone, the jar was etched with Enochian warding. "That should hold him."

Dean nodded. "Good."

The demon twisted against his bonds. "Whatever you do to me, you can't keep that girl a secret forever!"

The words were like ice-water dumped down Sam's spine. He turned to Cas. "You sure you can catch him?"

The angel nodded, once. "The incantation will draw him into the jar, and the warding will trap him."

Dean moved his lips silently, rehearsing the lines of the spell Cas had given them. "Maybe you should do it."

"No." Cas placed the jar in Sam's hands and stepped back. "No, I'll just stay out of the way."

Dean grimaced, but didn't argue. At least he was out of his bedroom, for now. Dean took a deep breath and started the Enochian chant.

"Wait."

Cas and Dean both turned to stare at Sam. So did the demon, an expression halfway between hope and horror on his face.

Dean let out a breath, pausing to take a good look at Sam's face. "What?"

"I think Gwen should be here."

"I thought you did not want her to know about-" Cas gestured between himself and the demon. "This sort of thing."

"She has to." Sam hated the words coming out of his mouth, but that didn't make them any less true. "Dad trained us to make us safe, he taught us how to hunt so we could protect ourselves. We can't protect Gwen from everything that's out there. We have to teach her out to protect herself." John Winchester had been right about some things.

Could Sam teach her to be safe without turning her into a hunter?

What had he promised her just the other day? Choices. _This isn't my choice_. Whether or not she hunted would be up to Gwen and no one else.

"Are you sure?" Dean asked. There was no argument in his tone.

Sam nodded. "Just wait here, I'll go get her." Sam turned toward the door. Dean shook his head and pointed to the corner, far out of the pool of light that surrounded the devil's trap.

"You don't have to go anywhere, Sammy." Dean turned to the shadows. "You heard your father. Come on out."

Gwen emerged from behind a bookcase on the other side of the room. "How did you know I was here?"

 _She's a mini-you._ Dean just grinned, and pulled her into the circle of light.

o0o

 _You'll be safe now_. That was what they had said, before they left her alone in the bunker with the angel to deliver the farmer-his name was Stan-back to his home. Gwen sat in the library and tapped at the glass jar. The black smoke inside swirled and made the jar rattle. The strange symbols etched into the glass glowed, and the cloud of smoke recoiled, curling into a ball to float in the center of the jar. A little black storm cloud that could kill her if it had the chance.

 _Sunrise and mist whisper through my window. The world has changed._ Widespread Panic was not normally at the top of her play list, but today, they had the right words.

She fingered the charm Uncle Dean had placed around her neck. Somehow, this little bit of metal could protect her from the black cloud. Not stop it killing her, no. Just stop it from getting inside her the way it had been inside that man. Stan, the farmer who leapt out of his chair to hug Sam and Dean and soon as he was untied.

 _We'll wait till tomorrow, rubbing our eyes, see that wasn't a dream._

Then, Castiel had placed his hand on the man's forehead and healed up all the bruises and cuts he'd gotten from Sam. Her dad.

 _Dad has an angel living in his house, and fights demons in-between grocery runs_.

Angels and Demons. That was the name of a book, not something that happened in real life.

Of course, finding her father had never seemed real, until she saw the Impala sitting at the filling station on a remote Virginia highway.

 _As time goes by we get used to the news. Somewhere the familiar just isn't_.

Gwen checked her phone, but there were still no new messages. No answer from Roxy. That was odd. Roxy would love to know that something out of her favorite books was real. Roxy would love to know that the world wasn't what everyone thought. That something more interesting lurked around the corner.

Interesting would be Roxy's word for it, not Gwen's. She wrapped her arms around her torso. She wasn't cold, she wasn't hot. She was uncomfortable and irritated, but there was nothing she could do to fix it. _Sunburned at Christmas, snowing at the end of July._ Demons didn't have tails and horns, angels couldn't fly, and her father wasn't a criminal.

He was a superhero monster hunter.

"Are you alright?" Gwen looked up to see Castiel-the angel Castiel. He had shown her the shadow of his wings and made his eyes glow. Now, he held a steaming mug in his hand, which he placed in front of her along with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. "In my time with humans, I have found that a hot beverage can be helpful in times of distress."

Gwen felt a small laugh bubble out of her mouth. "I think you've been watching too much TV. TV isn't like real life, you know." But she wrapped her hands around the mug, and felt the warmth travel to her heart, helping it slow, helping her shoulders relax.

"I do." Castiel sat down opposite her. She'd known from the start that he was odd, that there was something different about him. His posture was wrong, his facial expressions always flat, and he didn't seem to know the most basic things. He asked the same questions of the TV that a five-year-old would. "Although some things are surprisingly accurate."

Gwen snorted. "Yeah. Good guys versus bad guys." She pointed to him, and then to the jar of black smoke. "Monster killers in disguise." She looked toward the door her father and her uncle had left by. "And somewhere out there is the big bad evil king of hell-who isn't actually the devil-who would just love to kill me."

Cas tilted his head from side to side. "Crowley might kill you, but he might not. He's very hard to predict. Sometimes he is our ally, sometimes he is not. But he is dangerous, and he will use you against Sam and Dean if he can."

Gwen tapped the glass jar again. "So what are you going to do with him?"

Cas pulled the jar out of her reach. "Put him in storage, probably. We can't let him go, not with what he knows."

"Right." Gwen's hand traveled to her gun, which sat out on the table beside her. "That's why I have these funny bullets now."

"Iron, silver, salt. They should stop most things that might threaten you."

 _Most things_. "Right." Gwen took a sip from her mug; hot chocolate with a generous helping of marshmallows on top. "How dangerous is it? I mean, really? I know Dad and Dean were trying to scare me away."

"Your father never wanted to be a hunter. He wants a better life for you."

Gwen felt a prickle at the back of her throat and stared into the dark cocoa. "I just want him to want me."

"You would rather be with family than be normal and happy. Dean would approve."

Not happy? Gwen frowned, pulled her mug of cocoa closer, and hid behind it. The shape blocked out the sight of the glass jar and its sentient smoke; the evidence that what her dad _wanted_ might not be the only factor in his decision. Was all of this the reason why Grandpa Winchester had made sure Gina would not tell Sam about their child? She had thought it was because he was so young. Now, every decision the Winchesters made took on a new meaning. "Look, I've got a lot to think about…"

"I have a new season of Downton Abbey in my queue." Cas stood, gave Gwen one last careful look, and vanished down the hall.

Angels. Demons. Downton Abbey. Huh. Gwen turned away from the glass jar with its smoky demon and curled up around her phone. Her Facebook showed a stream of pictures. Friends having fun in the sun, using up the last few days of summer as if there would never be an other. Her soccer team, having lost their game, gathered at the ice cream stand. Aggie's advertisements boasted a vacant rental property. The world was just as she had left it.

A new message icon waited in her email. Oberlin Musical Conservatory. Gwen's stomach lurched. Oberlin was in her top five list. She had visited last year, before Mom died. She planned to apply.

Before the world fell apart.

 _Ms. Torres,_

 _The faculty at Oberlin are pleased to hear of your love of music and your interest in a future in the recording industry. We want to encourage you to apply to our program. We have many excellent scholarships available. The best candidates will complete high school without transfer credit and show dedicated community involvement across the four years of their secondary education program._

"Ah!" Gwen leapt out of her seat as if she had been bitten. Which she had. Or stabbed, stabbed in the rear-end with a grandmother-shaped stick.

Who did Nana know at Oberlin? A friend of a friend, probably. That was her favorite way to say she'd bribed or threatened her way into something.

In this case, a full-ride scholarship to-well, not Gwen's top pick, but a good pick. A very good school. Her whole future on a platter.

All she had to do was go back to Jackson and finish school there. One year of torment, and then her entire future ready-made. A good degree, no loans, and the career she wanted more than anything. A life immersed in music. A life arranged by Aggie Torres. A life without her father. Aggie would probably find a way to make sure that the scholarship only applied if she never spoke to Sam Winchester again.

Gwen ran her hands through her hair, pacing in little circles in front of her chair. "No fair no fair no fair!" Gwen screamed at the ceiling.

Aggie Torres never played fair.

 **Lyrics are from Jamais vu by Widespread Panic. Thanks for reading. Please review!**


	18. Run

**Run**

Dean waited in the car while Sam escorted Stan back to his own vehicle and left the Lebanon local with a few parting words about what to tell folk who asked questions about his recent strange behavior and memory loss. The town was tiny, and word traveled fast. Everyone knew everyone else, and already a few friends crossed the parking lot toward Stan, concern written on their faces.

It was a wonder the town didn't know who the Winchesters were and what they did by now. Or maybe the town did know. Maybe, they'd just learned to keep their mouths shut all those years ago when the Men of Letters were active. It didn't matter, as long as they continued to serve Dean at the bar, and leave the bunker alone.

Dean was on his phone, composing a nasty text to Crowley to let the demon know that spies in Lebanon were not appreciated. He should just snap a photo of Sam's face. His brother's expression was fiercer than Dean had ever seen before.

Sam had never looked more like their father. His temper was up, his emotions were running high, and that meant he was likely to do something rash. Not good.

Time for big brother to inject some clear thinking into this situation.

"So, what's the plan?" Dean asked once Sam had rejoined him.

"Plan?" Sam turned his glass-melting glare from the windshield to blink, bewildered, at his brother.

"Yeah, the plan to keep Gwen safe. Put her on lockdown at the bunker? Have Cas wipe her memory and send her home? Train her to fight the way Dad taught us? You're her father, as you keep pointing out. What's your plan?"

Sam's mouth flapped open for a moment. He had no answer.

"I can't do to her what Dad did to us. I can't train her to hunt."

"Ok." Dean had expected as much.

"I can't lock her up, that's no way to live."

"Ok." Dean would have preferred that option, but it hadn't worked for Lisa and Ben. He doubted Gwen would be any more cooperative.

"I can't erase what happened. That's not fair to her."

"Ok." Dean could argue the point, but now wasn't the time. So he waited.

"I can't keep her safe, Dean. I can't control her life, and I can't make her safe. She came to find us, and I can't undo that. I wish she hadn't run into that demon, but now that she has-"

"So, no plan?" Not that their plans ever worked, but still. Dean had a few good names in mind for a fake ID for Gwen. He knew the first few moves he would teach her to use against monsters. He could put together a quick guidebook on demon traps and exorcisms. All of these things were good ideas. They were all part of a good plan.

"We have to do things differently, Dean." Sam had said that before.

"She's seventeen and she has no idea what any of this really means. You saw her face when we exorcised that demon. She was looking for the special effects machines in the corner. She barely believes this is real. If a demon finds her again-"

"I know what could happen, Dean!"

"Which is why we need a plan, Sam!"

"What did you have in mind?"

Dean thought that Sam would never ask. "She'll need a new name. I can whip up an ID before we leave. She already knows how to shoot, we just need to make sure she knows an exorcism and a basic devil's trap. Teach her enough to deal with an emergency."

"You don't want to keep her at the bunker on lockdown? Or take her with us?"

Yes. That was exactly what Dean wanted.

"No, Sam. I'm not stupid. But she needs a new ID and she needs to pass Uncle Dean's Demons 101 before we let her out of the bunker again."

Dean held his breath, but Sam gave him a slow nod. It was a mark of how lost he felt that he gave in at all. "You think we can keep her safe?"

"Absolutely." Dean had always been good at lying when it was important.

o0o

Dean didn't know what to expect when they returned to the bunker. It had been clear after the exorcism that Gwen needed space. Her cheeks were pale, her expression tight, and she kept everyone at arm's length. Some people freaked out at the first sign of the supernatural, some were calm no matter what. And some had delayed reactions, the shakes setting in a day or a week later as they fully processed what had happened.

Gwen was going to have a delayed reaction, Dean was sure. The only question was how long it would take.

He opened the bunker door to hear music cranked loud enough to vibrate the walls. Gwen's voice rose above the recording, screeching at the ceiling. "Oh, gimme that fire. Burn, burn, burn. Ghosts and devils come a-calling."

Dean shut the door as loudly as possible, and the music came to a halt, leaving the resulting bang to echo through the halls. He and Sam made their way to the library. Gwen stood waiting for them, arms crossed. As soon as they were in range, words exploded from her mouth.

"Do demons buy people's souls with a kiss and then send invisible dogs to kill them ten years later?"

Of all the reactions Dean had envisioned, this was not one of them. He shut his eyes briefly against the memory of his own misadventure with hellhounds. This was not a good sign. What had Cas told her? The angel was nowhere to be seen. "Um-yeah."

Sam cocked his head, curious. "That's really specific. How did you know?"

Gwen wrinkled her nose in distaste. "There's this story that my bis-abuela liked to tell. Everyone knows it. My grandpa's cousin wanted to be a great singer. She was lost on the road one night, and stopped at the crossroads, not sure where to go. She met a man who promised her heart's desire, the price was a kiss, ten years of bliss, and her soul. The next day, she got her first job. Ten years later, she died screaming about invisible dogs." Gwen made a face and shook her head. "That's the part of the story where abuela spits on the floor, throws salt over her shoulder, and tells us never to kiss a man until we are married."

"Sounds like a demon deal."

Gwen closed her eyes, ran her hand through her hair, and turned in a little circle. "No, that is an old catholic woman's way of scaring us into staying virgins until we get married! That stuff's not real!"

Dean opened his mouth to reply, but Gwen wasn't finished.

"Belo-my grandpa-he always says that a man with black eyes keeps trying to make the same deal with him." Gwen's eyes roamed the room, then settled on Sam and Dean. "That man is a demon, isn't he?"

Sam and Dean both nodded. Gwen paced in a circle again. She was a teenager lost in a new world, in need of a plan.

Dean offered his. "We can keep you safe, Gwen. You'll get at tattoo that protects you. I'll make you some more anti-demon bullets, and teach you to defend yourself. We'll make you a new ID with a new name. Jody can watch out for you, and she'll call us if you're ever in danger. It will be alright."

Gwen's eyes narrowed as Dean spoke. For a moment she said nothing, then her gaze shifted to Sam.

"I need to go. I need to run."

o0o

"I need to run."

"Ok." Sam was just grateful that she had waited until they came home. He couldn't bear the thought of returning to find the bunker empty. Or worse, her dead body on the side of the road.

He hurried into his jogging shoes and let Gwen lead the way. She set a grueling pace, long legs eating the gravel road yard by yard. Gwen didn't say a word, didn't look sideways to see if he was keeping up. She ran past the gravel road to the open blacktop. She ran past fields of wheat, grain silos, and farm houses. She ran until her breath caught, her legs stuttered, and she had no choice but to stagger to a halt.

Sam leaned forward, hands on his knees, and gasped to catch his breath. Someday soon, his body would start to reject this sort of treatment. Someday soon age would start to creep in and slow him down. He could feel the warning pangs in his chest and his legs. _Please,_ they screamed, _no further_.

"Are you ready to talk yet?" Sam asked.

Finally, she looked at him. Her cheeks were flushed from the run and her breath was harsh with effort. "There's no way out." There was a crack in her voice, and Sam didn't think it was because of the run. "Any way I turn, there's no way out."

Gwen ran her hands through her hair, and sat down hard on the ground. "I don't want to get a tattoo."

"I know."

"I don't want to change my name."

"I know."

"I want to be a normal kid with a normal life and-a dad."

"I know." Sam didn't know what else to say. She wanted everything he had ever wanted, and he couldn't give it to her. Not any of it. "Look, I know it's a lot to take in, but life at Jody's will be mostly normal. You can get the tattoo wherever you want. No one will see it and you can forget about it. You already carry a gun, you'll just have it loaded with something different. We trapped the demon, he didn't have a chance to tell anyone. Hopefully, no one will know to look for you. You'll be able to finish high school, go to college, and do whatever you want with your life."

"I can't afford college."

 _Neither can I._ Could he?

Gwen tilted her head back to take in the wide Kansas sky. "What if I want to go home?"

"If you want to live with your grandmother, I won't argue," Sam said, but his stomach twisted at the thought. "But I don't think it will be good for you. Gwen, is there something else going on here?"

She finally turned to him, eyes hard. "Nana doesn't give up. Not ever. She pulled some strings and got me a scholarship. I only get it if I go back to Jackson and finish high school there. "

"It would be safer." She might spend the next year fighting with her grandmother, but the demons would have no reason to be interested in her. She could be a normal girl.

An angry, lonely girl with no home and no love.

"I mean, she's going to try to run my life no matter what. I may as well get something out of it."

She looked small and shrunken, with her arms wrapped around her knees and her shoulders curled inwards. In this moment, she had no power, no choices, no sense of control over her own life. It was all twisting out of her grasp.

Sam knew the feeling. Sam hated that feeling. There was only one thing he had ever wanted. Dean wanted to keep Gwen safe, but that wasn't what she needed.

"Gwen, I said that you would have a choice, and I meant it. You said yourself we have an entire building full of valuable stuff. I looked up those old phonograph records you found. If we sell even one, it could pay your tuition."

Gwen's head snapped up, as if he had dangled a million-dollar-bill in front of her nose. "You would do that?"

Of course he would. "We didn't even know they were there. The records and the phonograph are yours. Do you think that will help?" As if he didn't already know the answer.

"That-" Gwen's breath caught. "Dad, those records will get me into any school I want. Bowling Green will let me in just to be able to study them!" Sam was certain that school name meant something important. She said it the same was some kids said 'Harvard'.

 _Don't thank me, thank your great-grandfather._

"Good. I can't make you safe, and I can't make you happy. But I will do everything I can to make sure you always have a choice. Do you want to go back to Jackson? If you could live in your own, I mean. You can have your own place, you can go to your old school, you can play on the same soccer team and hang out with your friends. You can forget about demons and everything else." He hadn't meant to say it, but the option was there. It was a choice, a choice for safety and a future. He had to offer it.

"It's not something you can forget, Dad."

"Yes, you can." She needs to know her options. "Cas can make you forget everything. He can make you forget you ever wanted to find me. You can live on your own in Jackson and do whatever you want with your life. You can leave all this really scary stuff behind."

Her mouth tightened as she realized the offer was real. "Forget you?"

Sam nodded. "Forget me, forget demons. I'll never visit, but you'll be safe. You don't have to deal with any of this scary stuff."

Gwen clutched at her head and shook it, as if trying to shake the idea away. "That's not something that-you can't just-I can't just-I'd never see you again!"

"You wouldn't know you ever wanted to meet me. You wouldn't miss me at all. If you don't want anything to do with the supernatural world, Gwen, you don't have to."

"Is that what you want?" Her voice was soft, barely a whisper. "You want to forget me?"

"No! I could never forget you. But it's the only way I know to keep you safe, Gwen. That's the choice you have to make. Be a Winchester, or be safe."

"What if I want to be with you? I know your secret now. What if I want to stay?" Sam remembered wishing to be on the hunt, a long time ago when he was small and alone. It wasn't the hunt he had wanted; it was his family.

"Gwen, Dean and I move all the time. We live in the car. You saw the website. We come back here a lot, but we're gone just as much as we're at home. You can't live in the backseat. That's how I grew up, and I hated it. I think you'd hate it to." There was another option here, one that hadn't been explored. "Why don't you go to your grandfather?"

Her grandfather who had a demon stalker. Right, great idea.

Gwen snorted. "He's on Nana's side. Well, sometimes. You never know when he will side with her. When they're together, it's ok. When they're separate, it's ok. But when they are in a fight-it's not good."

"Ok. So you know your options. You can forget, go back to Jackson or wherever else you want, be on your own and go to college. Or you can stay with Jody and finish high school there. Either way, the phonograph records are yours. You're free to do whatever you want."

He cringed even as the words left his mouth. He knew they weren't true. Gwen's eyes narrowed. "No. What I want-"

"Isn't possible." There was no changing that.

Gwen looked away, let out a long breath, then stood pumped her legs. "I think I need to run again."

Sam scrambled to his feet to catch up before she was out of sight.

 **Lyrics are from Fire by Barns Courtney.**

 **Thanks for reading. Please review!**


	19. Middle of the Ride

**Middle of the Ride**

She stood in the middle of a dirt road, the ground hard packed from centuries of wear. In the distance, a bell rang, marking the midnight hour. She hummed a tune, like Ariel when the sea-witch pulled out her voice, and wished with all her might that the moonlight might turn into a spotlight.

A hissing voice whispered in her hear, "Just one kiss, and I can make all your dreams come true." Red eyes gleamed against the night, and warm lips tickled her face.

Bright sun blazed overhead, and a scream rent the air, only to be overwhelmed by the sounds of dogs barking and then the sounds of dogs chewing. Blood filled the space between cobble stones, and the road became a river of red.

An old woman shook her finger and then spat on the floor. "Never kiss a man who wants to take your soul."

A man stood in the parking lot, eyes black, and licked his lips with a feral grin. "What are you to the Winchesters?"

The man was gone. The sun was gone. The parking lot was gone. She was alone in the bunker, and a boa of swirling black smoke flowed around her like a snake closing around its prey. "A kiss for your soul. What do you want? What do you love?"

The sound of dogs barking echoed in the distance, invisible beasts with sharp teeth that bit into her flesh. Then an angel stood in front of her, dressed in a trench coat and surrounded by a halo of light. He reached toward her forehead. "I can make it all go away. I can keep you safe. I can make you forget."

Light blazed around her and through her. Gwen opened her eyes to find herself staring at the Impala's ceiling. The car rocked and thrummed around her. It was just a dream. She would not meet cousin Sofia's fate. She was not in any danger.

For now.

 _You can forget_. Forget the burning question that had defined her entire life?

 _You can be safe, or you can be a Winchester_. He sounded so serious when he said it, but it had been so easy to get rid of that demon. Dad and Uncle Dean knew what they were doing. Playing with fire was dangerous too, but people still made s'mores all the time. Right?

 _What you want is impossible_.

It was like a dare. A double-dare with serious money riding on the outcome. It just showed how little Dad knew her, that he had used that word.

Mom would have known better. _I don't think you know what that word means_. How many times had she said it?

Which was why Gwen was once again sitting in the Impala's back seat, watching the Nebraska landscape roll past. It was the same as the Kansas landscape had been, and Gwen imagined that it would not change once they reached South Dakota and Jody Mills' home. It wasn't that Gwen wanted to live with Jody, but she had deduced that grabbing hold of the bunker door and screaming, "No I want to stay" like a two-year-old would not convince Dad to change his mind. That would take time. So here she was, listening to the brothers argue about who was in charge of the radio. It sounded like a familiar fight. "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his-"

"Pie-hole?"

"You wouldn't know a good pie if it smashed you in the face. Just like you wouldn't know a good song if it- what is that?"

"I made a tape."

"You made a tape?" Dean repeated each word carefully, as if Sam had just said that the sky was falling.

"Just let me-" Sam tried to put the cassette in the player, but Dean blocked him with a forearm. He snatched the tape and glanced at it, despite the fact his attention should have been on the road.

"Hm." His eyes flicked toward the rearview mirror to meet Gwen's for a brief moment. Then he shrugged. "There's nothing on out here, anyway."

The sounds of the 90s swirled out of the speakers. Gwen reached for her phone and earbuds, but then she caught the words. "It just takes some time, little girl. You're in the middle of the ride. Everything, everything will be just fine. Everything, everything will be all right."

"No!" It was strange to hear such a sad whine come from such a large and burly man. "Sammy! It's like high school all over again."

Sam was bouncing his head to the beat. "Gwen wants to get to know her father, Dean. This is music that I like."

Dean's eyes found Gwen's in the rearview again. She was biting her lip, but there was no hiding the small smile spreading across her face. This tape was for her. Dean let out a grunt, and focused on the road again.

It'll just take some time. It was like her father was speaking to her through the music. Demons were real. So were angels. Dad's job was dangerous, so Gwen couldn't stay with him full time. It presented an unexpected wrinkle, nothing more. Obstacles had faced Gina Torres since the moment of her birth, and she had become a pro and smashing through them. She had taught her daughter to do the same. All it took was a little time.

The music had changed tracks.

"You can't always get what you want. But if you try sometimes well you just might find, you get what you need." Dean hummed along, tapping the steering wheel in time to the beat.

Sam sought Gwen in the rearview. She rolled her eyes and fixed them on her phone screen. It wouldn't do to let him know she approved. She was being mad at him right now in order to make her point.

What if what she wanted and what she needed were the same thing? Dad had grown up knowing about demons and angels and stuff like that. They only seemed impossible to other people because other people didn't know about them. Like the weird sea creatures that lived without sunlight or oxygen under tons and tons of pressure. Science found things that shouldn't exist all the time.

Winchesters fought things that shouldn't exist all the time.

 _Impossible things are happening every day_! Rodgers and Hammerstein? The bad music was contagious, and wrong. Gwen could get what she wanted. She had gotten this far.

Of course, that had only been possible because of Roxy, who was not answering her phone. A bad feeling wormed its way through Gwen's guts. Roxy was her go-to for this mission because she was virtually untouchable by Nana. Roxy's mother and Gina had been pregnant teens at the same time. They had banded together. They had found a rental property that Nana didn't own. They had found jobs that Nana didn't control. Roxy and her mom couldn't be threatened or bought. Usually.

Gwen's phone rang, but it was not Roxy. The number belonged to Avery, a friend from the soccer team who went to a different school. Roxy was great help when it came to impractical and impossible stunts, but when she needed a dose of realism, Gwen went to Avery.

Except that Avery shouldn't have this number.

Gwen answered cautiously. "Hello?"

"Gwen! Are you ok? I mean, I knew you left home on purpose but-the police were looking for you and everything."

"Yeah, Avery, I'm fine. How did you-"

"Oh. Roxy's here. She's hiding under my bed. Literally." Avery's eye-roll was audible. She had never understood Roxy. It was a wonder the two managed to exist in the same room at all.

If Roxy had gone to Avery, thing were very, very bad. "Oh." Gwen's voice was small. She had been betrayed.

"I'm sorry!" Roxy wailed in the background. "I didn't realize it was happening. I thought-I wasn't-He's always so nice!"

"I called to warn you." Avery's tone was all business. "First, you owe us all pictures. Your dad? Seriously? I mean, we all know you wanted to find him. Share a little!"

Gwen had wanted nothing more than to post about a zillion photos of herself and Dad, herself and Uncle Dean, herself and the bunker. The only thing stopping her had been Aggie's nation-wide manhunt. "I was trying to stay hidden!"

"Yeah. That won't matter now. Aggie's on her way." Avery never was one to be gentle with bad news.

"I'm in the car, on the road. She can't possibly know where I'm going."

"Oh, she can." Avery's tone was certain.

"How?" Aggie was capable of impossible feats, Gwen had seen it before. But there was no way she could know where Gwen would be at the end of this day when Gwen herself had not known this morning.

"Roxy said something about your dad's life story being in these books…and so she had a pretty good idea where you would wind up."

"Roxy wouldn't tell Nana." Of this, Gwen was sure.

"No," Avery agreed.

"He made me chocolate and asked me to listen to his new song. I swear, I didn't know he and Aggie were together." That was Roxy now. Her voice grew louder as she crept closer to the phone. "We got to talking and-You know how he can be."

Yes, Gwen knew. "No! No, no, no you didn't tell Belo! He does all her dirty work, you know that. It doesn't matter how charming he seems."

"I'm sorry." Roxy would repeat it as many times as necessary. "That legal stuff will hold, right? Aggie can't take you, so it doesn't matter."

That was just Roxy trying to make herself feel better. They all knew there was no end to what Aggie would do.

In the front seat, Dad was on the phone. His alarmed tone cut through Gwen's conversation.

"What? Jody, slow down! Who is there? That can't be…No, I didn't tell anyone…We're about two hours away. We'll be there soon. Just…tell her to wait. Please? Yes, I know. I owe you."

Sam dropped his phone to his lap and turned to look at Gwen. He was wide-eyed, as if he'd just been hit over the head. Which he may as well have been. "Gwen, that was Jody. You should know that-"

"Nana's there. Isn't she?"

Sam nodded.

"Is that really him?" Roxy bellowed in Gwen's ear. "Can I talk to him?"

"No!" Gwen resisted the urge to pound her phone on the seat. "No, you can not. I'll call you back. I have to deal with this." Gwen ended the call before Roxy could say anything else.

The cassette had moved on to yet another song. "Stand in the rain, stand your ground. Stand up when its all crashing down. You stand through the pain, you won't drown, and one day what's lost can be found."

Maybe, she and Dad weren't so far apart in this after all.

Gwen lifted her eyes to meet Sam's. "I'm ready to handle Nana. Are you?"

o0o

 **One Hour Earlier**

The diner that sat on the intersection of highway 115 and I-90 in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, had seen its fair share of strange customers. If they were on the road, they stopped here. Workers seeking coffee before or after work. Tourists on their way someplace new. Bikers who just wanted to be on the road. They all had to eat, and this place had the fewest left turns between its parking lot and the main roads.

Once, a pair of fake federal agents had passed through, and the town would not soon forget the night that had followed. They had seen all kinds.

Until today.

When a small woman with steel-gray hair cropped close to her chin and nail polish that glinted with tastefully-places rhinestones entered in her Nordstrom suit and sharp heels, every head turned to stare. The diner had hosted all kinds, but never this kind. This kind carried on to the well-known chain restaurants further down the road. This kind wouldn't touch a greasy spoon with a ten-foot pole.

Aggie Torres didn't even bother to look at the menu. She didn't order so much as a coffee. She marched up to the counter and pinned the first waiter who dared look her in the eye. "I am looking for Bobby Singer. I went by his salvage yard, but it seems to be out of business."

"Yeah, Bobby Singer died years ago."

"I understand he was friends with a man named Winchester. Does Winchester come through this town anymore?"

The waiter bit his lip. "Who's asking. Ma'am." He added the last hastily when Aggie's eyes narrowed.

"A family member. I have a court summons for him." She held out a page filled with fine print and pointed to the name at the top. "Where can I find Sam Winchester?"

Folks around the diner were shifting uneasily. Concerned looks flew from booth to counter. Sam Winchester had saved them once. They didn't talk about it, but they all remembered.

"I'm not sure-"

"Don't lie to me."

The waiter swallowed hard. "No, ma'am. I mean-no one knows where the Winchesters live. They come around once in a while. Used to stay at the salvage yard. These days they stay with the Sheriff."

Aggie's brows climbed to her hairline. "The Sheriff?"

The waiter nodded. "Yes ma'am. Sheriff Jody Mills. You can find her at-"

"I can find the Sheriff's office just fine, thank you." Aggie placed an order for a coffee to go and left the change. The diner let out a collective sigh of relief as she left.

"That can't be good."

"Poor man, what does she want with the Winchesters?"

"Think we should warn the Sheriff?"

Eye contact was avoided. Food shifted around on plates. No, best to let it be. There was no stopping the woman in the suit anyway. Best to stay out of it.

 **Lyrics from "The Middle" by Jimmy Eat World, "You can't always get what you want" by the Rolling Stones, "Stand in the Rain" by Superchick and Impossible by Rodgers and Hammerstein (from the musical Cinderella).**

 **NOTE: "Belo" is a Spanish term for grandfather. Belo is not the name of Gwen's grandfather, but rather a title, like "Nana".**

 **Next chapter should be fun. Jody, Sam and Gwen vs. Aggie. Anyone interested in meeting Gwen's grandfather?**

 **Thanks so much for reading. Please review! If you tell me what you like, it helps me become a better writer.**


	20. Spanish Serenade

**A Spanish Serenade**

They pulled into the drive at dusk. Half the sky was dark and littered with the first few stars, the other half was pale with a dim light; like all of Dean's vanishing hopes for a happy home cooked meal. The sun balanced on the horizon, red as the blood that would surely be spilt before the night was over.

Jody and Aggie waited on the front step. Jody still had her uniform on, despite the late hour. Maybe it was a source of comfort, armor to help her weather the storm. Aggie had on her battle suit, steel gray to match her hair. Every angle of her pressed clothing, her military-grade stance, and her lined face was sharp.

Dean had faced worse, but usually, he had a machete in hand when he did.

A man Dean had never seen before perched lazily on the side of the porch. He had olive tone skin and dark hair, and held a guitar in his hands. His fingers moved gracefully over the strings, sending a soulful tune across the peaceful landscape that sounded like it belong to a Spanish desert, not a Midwestern suburb. Gwen had mentioned a grandfather. Who else but the man crazy enough to marry Aggie would be so at ease on the edge of the battle to come?

Gwen was out of her seat before the car and fully stopped. Shrill words flew from her mouth like bullets as she stomped across the lawn. The tone of the guitar changed to match, high-pitched, angry plucking at the strings.

"What are you doing here? I got your stupid bribe, and I said no! You can't keep me from my dad, and you can't drag me back home. You can't run my life. You can't-"

Dean wasn't sure if he should grab her around the waist and clamp a hand over her mouth, or stand behind with a stern look of his own to reinforce her point. Aggie's face never changed. She merely stepped down onto the lawn, held out her arms, and wrapped Gwen in a strong hug.

"I am glad you're alright."

The guitar played a soft chord, and the man hummed low in his throat. "We love you, nieta." He voice was low and smooth as whiskey.

Gwen's voice was smothered in her grandmother's shoulder. "I know. But-"

Aggie stepped back and held up a finger. Gwen's mouth snapped shut. "I see we are at an impasse. You will not come home. You will not accept my help. But you will not be rid of me, Gwendolyn Torres. I lost my daughter and I will not lose you."

At the mention of her mother, Gwen looked as if all the air had been sucked from her. Aggie paused to give Gwen a moment to digest this, and turned to gaze to Sam.

Gwen's grandfather stopped humming and moved his strumming down a key, a low rumble that warned of an explosion to come.

Sam wasn't looking at Aggie at all; he had gone straight to Jody. If he was a begging man, he would have been on his knees. "I'm sorry about this."

"Sam, I can't do this if she is going to interfere in my home and my life. I have two other girls to take care of."

"What did she want?"

"She wants to inspect my house! She wants to make sure it is 'fit' for a child."

"Hey!" Three sharp strums on the guitar accompanied Dean's sound of protest, dum-dum-dum!

"She knows you're the Sheriff. How could she possibly-"

Aggie cut across Sam, and the guitar back her up with a forceful thrum. "I know that you were under age when you got my daughter pregnant. I know your father could barely provide a fit living space for you, and he thought you irresponsible enough that he refused to tell you about your child. I had no idea what kind of arrangement you might deem appropriate for Gwen."

The guitar paused for a moment, and the musician let out a low breath. "Agathe, no need to be mean about it."

She wasn't even making an attempt to disguise her insults. But the slur against the family name fell flat. Dean was still stuck on the rest of her statement. The piece of information she had dropped like a nuclear bomb on their formerly stable family dynamic.

Sam's mouth flopped open, and he did his best impression of a deflating balloon. No words came out, only a long, betrayed hiss. When he finally could speak, the words were soft and on the edge of cracking.

"Dad knew?"

Fingers danced across the guitar, picking out a few sharp staccato notes. Gwen's grandfather showed no change in expression, head bent in concentration over his instrument.

Aggie didn't move a muscle, yet her entire frame seemed to glow with triumph. "You think I would let you leave without someone taking responsibility for this child."

Gwen's eyes narrowed. "Mom and I did just fine."

"You did fine because John Winchester gave your mother a monthly stipend. Or have you already forgotten how you were able to get halfway across the country in the first place?"

Gwen grinned, and Aggie looked away. Sam was a much easier target. He didn't move, just sagged a little as the blows kept coming. "At least your father had the sense not to give it to her all at once. Still, that much money in the hands of a teenager-"

"Is a great way to teach responsibility." Jody stepped down to join the fray, and Gwen's grandfather gave her a menacing da-duh-da! "If you think for a moment that Sam is inadequate-"

"Oh, I am reevaluating my opinion of the younger Mr. Winchester." Aggie snatched control of the conversation before Jody could steer it in a direction she didn't like. "Of course as soon as I saw your profession and heard that you foster other girls, I knew the place would be adequate. Gwen may not get the personal attention she deserves-"

"She will get everything she needs." Sam's tone matched Jody's now. His spine was still intact after all. "Jody is an excellent caregiver. Gwen couldn't be in a better place."

Aggie's lips formed a thin line. "We will see." She turned to Jody. "Sheriff?"

Jody grimaced, as if she'd bitten into a lime and forgotten about the tequila. "Sorry about this, Sam. It's part of the job. This came for you from Ohio." Jody handed Sam a piece of paper filled with small, dense type. "It's a court summons and temporary order."

"No! Dad has custody of me." Gwen sounded like she was falling off the edge of a cliff, reaching for a handhold. Dean gripped her shoulder tight, and her grandfather left of his anxious strumming for a few soothing notes.

"You're not going anywhere."

"Yes, she is. Once a month she will visit me, in my home." Aggie turned to give her ex a glare, and he pressed his hand flat against the strings. Silence dropped, leaving only the sound of crickets to fill the space.

Sam looked from the paper to Gwen. "It's just a visitation order. She has to bring you back in time for school on Monday."

"Of course. I would not interfere with her education."

"Ha!" Gwen's laugh was bitter.

"Have you thought about her education, Sam?" Aggie's voice was gentler now she knew she had her way. She spoke as a teacher does to a young child who needs things explained slowly and simply.

Sam drew himself up to his full height, shoulders expanding as he went. Aggie's eyes grew wide. He was no longer the sixteen-year-old she had been able to scare off with a few shrill words.

"Actually, I have." Sam tucked the court order in a pocket and moved around to the Impala's trunk. He pulled out the small box swathed in bubble-wrap that they had carefully wedged between two duffle bags so it wouldn't get rattled around too much. Sam pulled off the bubble wrap and titled the box so Aggie could clearly see the Edison Record Company label before placing it in Gwen's hands. "I think we have it covered."

A wide smile blossomed across Gwen's face, and she leaned forward for Sam to wrap his arms around her.

Aggie frowned. "I see." Her mouth twitched, as if she was working something bitter out of her teeth. "I will be watching, and if I hear or see anything-"

"I'm sure you'll have a great time reporting the county Sheriff to Child Protective Services." Jody took a step closer to Aggie, her face the stern mask she used for work. "Right. I know. I'm not above the law. Ask around town, see if anyone is worried about how I treat my other girls. Alex and Claire are both plenty old enough to testify in court. In fact, we'll all be at the hearing."

"What hearing?" Gwen asked.

"The visitation order includes a court date. Sam can come contest your grandmother's petition. I know every attorney in Sioux Falls."

Dean returned Jody's triumphant smile with a grateful grin.

"Wonderful!" The guitar set to work again, this time strumming a bouncy tune. "Everything is settled, we will have a family reunion in Jackson in three weeks!"

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Belo!"

Her grandfather grinned, put down his guitar, and opened his arms wide. Gwen stepped forward for a hug. "I brought paella. All we need to do it heat it up. There is enough for everyone!"

"You are not allowed in my house!" Jody said, as if she had repeated this line several times already. But there wasn't much heat left in her voice.

"Gwen, do you want to have dinner with-this person?" Sam asked.

"Yes." Gwen's answer was just a little too eager. She gave her grandfather a considering look. It was cold, calculated, and not unlike her grandmother. She wasn't the type to give in to bribes-not even something that smelled as good as whatever was in that steaming pot. The girl had a plan, a plan that involved the strange, music-loving Spaniard.

Dean's danger radar kicked into gear, a red light flashing in the back of his mind, all sirens blaring. But there was nothing he could do, and no reason to refuse.

"Yes, Dad. This is my Abuelo."

The man reached out to shake Sam's hand. His voice had a musical lilt, and only a hint of an accent. "Toni Torres, good to meet you at last. I am ever so grateful to you for giving me such a magnificent granddaughter." Gwen smiled and blushed. Somehow, in a few short seconds, Toni had broken the tension and turned a bloodbath into a dinner party.

Aggie had gone to the curb and lifted a giant pot out of the back of her car. She set it on the law, then stepped back. "I don't care for seafood."

Toni stepped forward and wrapped Aggie's hands in his. Some of the sharp lines vanished from her face, and for a moment Dean caught a glimpse of something else behind Aggie's reserved mask. "You are welcome to stay." His tone was warm and welcoming, but Aggie simply shook her head and ducked into her car.

Claire and Alex appeared in the front door.

"Is it safe yet?"

"Something smells good!"

"Alright, girls, help Gwen with her bags and show her to her room." Jody assessed Toni and his giant pot, and Dean wasn't sure if she wanted to test it for poison or dive in fork-first. "Looks like we're having one more for dinner, so set a extra place."

Toni beamed as if the sun had just risen, and followed Jody into the house.

Alone on the lawn, Dean and Sam exchanged a look. His little brother looked as if he'd been hit by a bus.

"Dad knew."

"It make sense, Sam."

Sam's eyes were wide, sad and bright with tears. It made him look five years old again. Of all the betrayals of trust they had faced from their father, this was the worst. Dean stood his ground. The trail of logic was clear, even Sam would have to agree. "Dad knew you had old Yellow Eyes on your tail. He knew she wouldn't be safe with us."

Sam never was one to listen to logic where family was concerned. "I had a right to know!"

"You were sixteen, Sam! What would you have done?"

Sam shook his head and looked away. Was he throwing a mental punch at John Winchester? Dean knew he wanted to, logic or no, he wanted a chance to see Gwen grow up.

"Clearly we don't know what happened. Unless you want to go talk to Aggie for details, we'll never know. Let's go inside, get Gwen settled, make her feel comfortable here, and figure out what 'paella' is."

"It's rice and seafood. Lobster and crab and shrimp and stuff." Give Sam something to make him feel smart, always a good plan.

Dean pulled a face. "You mean like crab and lobster and stuff? I hate it when my dinner can stare me down."

"It's dead, Dean. It's not a contest." There was a hint of a laugh in Sam's tone. Good.

"Yeah, well. All I'm saying is, those crawling things better not move around, or I'm outta there."

 **Thanks for reading. Please review!**


	21. 1999

**Thanks for reading! It's time for a flashback now, and we'll pick up with Sam, Dean and Gwen again next chapter. But what happened when Aggie found John?**

 **1999**

Red and blue lights from a police car flashed outside the window of the dilapidated old home. It had been on the market for over a year, and potential buyers had stopped coming to tour six months ago. There were rats in the basement and roaches in the kitchen, and the slow, steady drip of a leak through the roof. John had seen worse. It wasn't the fraying condition of the home's internal structure that kept it on the market. It was the cold spots, the rattling walls, and the moaning in the basement.

Of course, John Winchester wasn't idiot enough to plan to sleep inside the haunted home. His car was parked safely outside the property line, a blanket and pillow already set up in the back seat. He could get a motel, but even living on fake money, he had to be frugal. Juggling credit cards was a tricky business.

Which was why John always kept his head down when he saw the flashing lights. It didn't matter if he had broken any laws recently, he found it good policy to avoid the men and women in blue. John paused in the pouring of a salt line to twitch the curtain closed, just in case. Then he pulled back the corner to peer outside.

The lights glinted off the hood of his car. Three people surrounded the vehicle; two in uniform, one woman in a tailored pantsuit with silver earrings that glinted sharply in the light. She pointed to the car and gave an affirmative nod. The officer said something into his radio. All three circled, peering in the windows. John didn't twitch, waiting. After a few minutes, they piled back into their car and drove away.

o0o

The spirit had fought well, but John Winchester fought smarter. A neat circle of salt with one small gap, and the thing was trapped. Lights flickered through the entire house, but the spirit was going nowhere. And now that John had gotten a good look at it, he had a pretty good idea who he was dealing with. Time to find a shovel and hit the cemetery.

"You don't make a very good electrician, Mr. Winchester."

A woman about his age stood on the curb by the Impala, arms crossed, feet apart in a stance that said she had a bone to pick with him.

John glanced back at the house. It looked like a strobe light was going off inside. The spirit was throwing a telekinetic tantrum, and it was only a matter of time before something broke that salt line.

"Look, lady, I don't have time for this."

"You will make time." It was the woman who had come with the cops. Her silver jewelry glinted like steel in the light of the streetlamps. She didn't need the suit or the silver to proclaim that she was a powerful woman. It was evident in the sharp lines of her posture and the gleam in her eye. This was a woman used to getting her way.

A teenage girl stood next to her, eyes on the sidewalk, cheeks burning. She lifted her head to say something, but her mother held out a hand and spoke instead. "I am here to speak with your son, or else the police will come back with a warrant to search your car. They may find some items of immense value from my home inside."

"You made up a crime just to get the police to track my car?" John resisted the urge to check is watch. He already knew that there had been plenty of time since the police brigade's departure for her to jimmy the locks and plant evidence inside the Impala.

"You are a hard man to find." She offered no apology. If anything, she climbed higher on the pedestal she seemed to have brought with her. She came to John's shoulder, but somehow he felt as if she were looking down at him from a great height.

Time to even the field. "Look, lady, I don't know you-"

"Agathe Torres. You son knows my daughter quite well. Too well."

There was no mistaking her meaning. John had been chased down by angry parents before, but he had a sinking feeling that there was more to this than a pair of teenagers showing each other too much skin.

"Look, lady, your daughter was just as much a part of whatever happened as Dean was. Go take it up with her." Am I a grandfather? The question wasn't one he dared think about.

"I have no interest in Dean. I am here to speak with Sam."

"Sam?" Sam was too busy yelling at his father and doing his homework to get into trouble with a girl. Besides, he was too young for things to go too far yet, and still blushed red when he got too close to a girl he liked. "Lady, there must be some mistake."

"I'll order a DNA test when our grandchild arrives, but my daughter is certain."

"She hooked up with a boy she knew for less than a month." It was a safe guess. They rarely stayed anywhere longer than that. The girl didn't argue, but she lifted her chin so John finally got a good look. She had dark hair and olive skin, and the small bump around her middle hadn't ruined her slim figure yet. There was a soft, warm look in her dark eyes, the kind a man could fall into and never crawl out of. If anything could steal Sammy's attention, it was standing here in front of him.

"And you believe her when she says she's sure?"

"I'm sure," the girl said.

Agathe's eyes narrowed. "The DNA will be tested, and when it is, I will see your son in court."

"No. You won't."

"Excuse me? I've more than demonstrated that I can track you down."

"Sam is sixteen. He's too young for you to drag into court for child support. He's too young to be a parent, period. I don't want him anywhere near your daughter ever again."

Agathe's lips twitched. "Sixteen?" She repeated. Then she shrugged and squared her shoulders. "He will be eighteen soon enough."

"You really think you can track us down again in two years?"

"Gina thinks Sam will be interested in their child. I may not have to." Agathe eyed the car, then turned back to John. "I'll find him soon enough."

"No you will not. Sam is sixteen. He's a minor. This is my decision, and I say Sam doesn't need to know."

"Yes he does! This is Sam's baby too." Unfortunately, that was entirely true.

"And what do you think you will get from him?" Most girls, if they didn't want to get married, didn't want the father to have much to do with the baby. He gestured at the home behind him. "Did Sam tell you anything about our life? I doubt it." Sam had outgrown the phase where he tried to tell others about the supernatural a long time ago. These days, he hid from that part of their lives as much as possible. "We move every month. We live in motels. My work happens mostly at night. Sam has two years of high school left, and when he is done-"

John didn't know what he would do the day Sam came of age and no longer had a need to stay with his father. "He won't be in any position to help you." John turned to Agathe and added, "Even with a court order in place. You want to tell Sam, get him involved? Most mothers know better. Most mothers want me and my sons out of town and away from their daughters as fast as possible."

"So Sam will not be taught to take responsibility for his actions?"

John bristled. "From the look of it, your daughter is older than my son. If anyone took advantage, it was her. I will deal with Sam. You will never see him again. Raise the child as you will. I think you would prefer that, wouldn't you? Because if you insist that I or Sam help support the child, I will insist on a custody battle."

Agathe's response was a subtle clenching of her fist, but John saw the small gesture. He had her. "No contact. Ever. I am assured of that?"

"But I-"

"Absolutely." This time, John meant every word.

Agathe nodded. "Very well. Stay away from us. Come along, Gina." Agatha gripped her daughter's arm. Gina dragged her feet and raised her voice in protest, but John didn't hear what she said. He slammed the car door shut and drove away as fast as he could.

He'd driven two hours before he realized he forgot to salt and burn the bones and had to turn around.

o0o

She was waiting outside of the motel. Her shirt was tight, showing off the small but unmistakable bulge in her belly. One look at her, and Sam would know. It was probably her intention. When she saw John approaching, she lifted her chin, a defiant gesture that said she wasn't going anywhere.

John had assumed that, should either of his sons leave any progeny in their wake, it would be the parents of the teenage girls giving him trouble. He had handled Aggie, parent to parent, and she had seen reason. Handling teenagers? Well, John's current situation with Sam was proof that he still had a few things to learn about that.

At least the kid hadn't run away again. Yet.

A pregnant girlfriend in another state was a recipe for disaster. Sam would be gone faster than John could get a shot off. Not that he would shoot at his son. It was just a metaphor. Although somedays, he felt a good scattering of rock-salt in the rear might be just what the kid needed.

Sam would try to be a parent. He would drop out of school, get a job, and try to do the right thing. With all his talk about wanting to be 'normal', he would jump at the excuse. That, and he was a good kid. He would love that child, and do his best to help the girl. There was no doubt in John's mind.

When the demons came, and they would come, the girl and her child would die. Demons had left a trail of carcasses in their wake before in pursuit of Sam. John didn't know what they wanted yet, but he knew they would be back.

Just as surely as he knew this girl would be back. He still didn't know how she had found him again. No, he did. He ran a hand over the Impala's hood. She was a distinctive vehicle, and that fact had given John trouble with the police more than once. Yet he still refused to giver her up. She was the last constant in their lives, the last bit of home, the last reminder of Mary.

Mary? What would she think of becoming a grandmother? Likely, she would already be planning a baby shower. She would have a list and credit card ready to purchase everything the baby could need.

There could be no baby shower here, but John could provide for this child. He could save her life by keeping her away from Sam. All he had to do was convince the girl. She was stubborn, she was resourceful, and she didn't get along with her mother.

He recalled how they had stood apart, rigid in each other's presence, very little warmth shared between them. Was that how he and Sam looked to outsiders? There was not necessarily a lack of love, only of understanding.

"I'm here to see Sam." Gina's words came out in a rush as soon as John came close enough.

"He's out." Dean had taken him to the arcade to blow off steam after the most recent fight. John couldn't even remember what it had been about. Something to do with blood spatters on Sam's homework and not enough time to study for a quiz.

"I'll wait." Yes, she probably would.

"What do you want from him?"

"Nothing." Her tone was flat, no trace of defensiveness. She wasn't after money at all. "I just want him to know. He's the father. He has a right to know." She shifted and settled a hand on her belly. Could she feel motion in there yet? If he placed his hand there, would he?

"What is your plan then?" John could guess.

Gina shrugged. "Stay with my mother, I guess. Get a job."

"Do you want to go to college?" Sam seemed to want it so badly. It could be a common point of interest. Something besides looks had drawn them together. Her personality wouldn't matter to Dean, but it would be all the difference to Sam.

"I did." She sounded like she'd lost a fight, her voice a sad whisper. "I do. Mom says I still can, if I sign the baby over to her. She'll take care of," She glanced at her stomach, "Her. She'll take care of everything. But I have to study business at a school she chooses."

Ah. He had been right. I hate my mom, you hate your dad, let's make out in the backseat while we talk college plans. Is that how it had happened?

"And what do you want to study?"

"Photography." Her answer was swift and sure. Perfect.

"And what would you do if you didn't have to live with your mother?"

Gina's eyes grew wide. "What?"

"What would you do if you didn't have to worry about the money? Most kids your age can wait to leave home, and you seem as ready as any."

"I am!" She blurted, then pulled back warily. "Why?"

"I can rustle up some money." It wouldn't be hard. He had a small collection of cursed objects that would fetch a fine price on the black market. He'd just acquired a very valuable rabbit's foot that would do nicely. The trick would be getting it back again once sold. But that was no different than the risks he ran every day on the job. "I can get you enough to pay your tuition. You could go to any school you want, study whatever you want."

"And give my baby to you?"

"No." He'd lived with one infant in the backseat. He would not do that to another. "Your mother won't turn the baby away. She'll keep it, no matter what you do."

Gina didn't argue the point. "I don't want her to raise my child."

Too bad. College and children didn't mix well. It was possible, but without her mother's support Gina would need-

"Enough money to pay tuition could be enough to get us through for a few years. Get us through until I can get a good job and get her into school so I won't have to pay for a sitter anymore." Smart girl. He could see the balance tipping as she ran numbers in her mind. Did she know how much rent and food would cost, how much diapers would run?

"More than enough. If you talk to the right finance man and invest a good sum, you can get a monthly stipend for a long time. I can get you the money."

Gina eyed him warily. John continued, "I can even set up the trust. One thousand dollars a month until the child turns eighteen. But." He let the word drop hard and slow. This point must be absolutely clear. "Sam never knows. You cannot contact him. Ever."

"Ah!" Gina let out a short, sharp breath, as if she'd been stung. "That's-"

"Those are my terms. Do you want control over your own life?" Had Sam found a girl as stubborn and frustrated as himself?

"It's all I've ever wanted."

John wanted to hug her tight. He wanted to settle her down in his home, the one he didn't have, and watch his grandchild grow up. His arms ached to hold that baby. But instead, he held out his hand. "Then do we have a deal?"

Gina placed her hand in his. "Deal."

He would never see his grandchild. He would never know her name. But she would be safe, and she would be free of the Winchester family curse.

"Where are you going to live? I need to make sure Sam and I never pass through."

Gina grinned. "Jackson, of course."

"I thought you would have wanted to get as far away from that place as possible."

Gina's smile grew, and suddenly John saw how much she resembled her mother. "No, I'm going to live just down the block. I'm going to make her watch me do everything she said I couldn't."

 **Thanks for reading. Please review! Your comments help keep the story moving forward.**


	22. Left Behind

**Left Behind**

Dad was gone. Uncle Dean had gotten an important phone call over dinner, they had both given her a big hug and told her she would be fine, and then they were gone. Off to do dangerous things.

Gwen lay back in her new bed and stared up at the ceiling. The walls were painted a cheery blue, and there was an over-stuffed bean bag chair in the corner. Flowers decorated the curtains, and a lime-green computer sat on a desk next to a smiley-face lamp. Someone had taken the time to decorate, to make her feel at home here. It was certainly very different from the bunker, with its simple furnishings and lack of color. It was nice. Homey.

Music started mid-song, with a slight cackle of static from the radio. It was something metal and gloomy, but Gwen couldn't place the song. She had just picked up the beat when the music changed to a light pop song, something about high school and trouble with boys. Voices rose down the hall.

"Hey, I was listening to that!"

"You're music is too grumpy. I have to hear it, too!"

"Girls! Finish doing the dishes, and you can go listen to whatever you want in your own rooms."

It wasn't the first mini-fight between Claire and Alex, and it likely wouldn't be the last. They were worse than sisters. Gwen could already tell that Alex was the person to go to for help with homework or fitting in at school, and Claire could be called upon for a bit of fun or a partner in crime. She might not even draw the line at real crime.

The radio was off now but another voice had picked up the song, backed by a single guitar. It was an off-key warble that barely passed as music.

"I'm not looking for somebody with some superhuman gifts! Some superhero, some fairy tale bliss. Just something I can turn to, somebody I can kiss."

Gwen closed her eyes as her ears recoiled from the sound. Abuelo could play better than anyone she had ever met, but he couldn't sing.

"What is that?" Claire demanded. Gwen thought she heard a plate shatter.

"Don't look at me. I turned the radio off!" Alex said.

Gwen rolled her eyes and levered herself off the bed. Jody was staring out the window at the source of the piteous sound. "It sounds like someone is killing cat! Is he ok?"

"He's fine."

Abuelo was always fine. Gwen couldn't remember seeing him in distress, not even when Nana threw the fish tank at him during their third divorce. He had been soaked, but somehow managed to save all three koi. Gwen slipped out the back door to join her grandfather on the porch.

Toni gave her a huge smile and stopped singing. Sometimes, Gwen was pretty sure he did it on purpose. He knew how terrible his voice was. He spent most of his time touring with professional bands filling in guitar slots. He had a professional ear.

"Well, what do you think? Will you stay, or do you plan to run away again? I'd prefer warning this time. I have a flight to Argentina this week, and the sooner I know that Aggie will send out a panic alarm again, the easier it will be to get a refund."

"You didn't pay for the ticket, the band did."

Toni just shrugged and sipped at a glass of wine. Then he lifted the bottle toward her. "Would you like a nightcap?"

"Abuelo! Nana might not mind, but this is the Sheriff's house! She could arrest you for that." He knew it, too, judging by the laughing twinkle in his eyes. He also probably didn't care.

"Americans have such strange rules when it comes to alcohol. Ah, well." He lifted his glass and refilled it from the bottle. "You finally got your birthday wish, but you don't look happy."

Gwen had been five the first time she managed to blow out every candle on her cake in one breath. That meant that her wish would come true. She always made the same wish; to meet her father. For the next month she had been glued to the window, waiting for him to come. That was when Mom had told her about grandpa Winchester, and that Dad couldn't come because he didn't know she existed.

 _Mom wanted me to know he didn't abandon me_.

But now he had. He had dumped her at a foster home and left without looking back. Off to save the world again, so Claire had said as the Impala pulled out of the drive. Off to do something dangerous, Alex had countered. Jody had wrapped an arm around Gwen and assured her that they always came back. "This is a nice place, Gwen, and your father did the right thing to bring you to it. I think he cares about you."

To hear Dad tell it, leaving her here meant he cared an awful lot. Jody had said it. So had Claire. All the grown-ups agreed.

That didn't begin to make it alright.

"That's not the point!"

"It's not what you want. That doesn't mean it isn't a good thing. Maybe you could be happy here." He actually said it with a straight face.

"Says you?" Gwen didn't care how low the blow was. "You don't even know how many times you and Nana have been married. It doesn't matter what she does, you keep coming back and it ends in disaster every time. You could be a famous musician if you would just focus on your playing, but you keep trying to sing. You're telling me to settle for something I don't want?"

"See, this is why your grandmother divorced me when she had your mother. She knew I was a bad example." Abuelo didn't miss a beat.

"Then why did she take you back?"

"Because she loves me." He sounded certain. He always did.

"If she loves you, why does she keep divorcing you? She's the one who starts the fight every time." It was always Abuelo who proposed. It was always Nana who filed the divorce papers.

"Because she is scared," Abuelo said.

The words were new, strange things that didn't fit right. They couldn't be applied to Nana. Not now, not ever. "What?"'

"She is scared. She loves me as much as I love her, but she knows she cannot control me." It was true; Abuelo only ever did exactly what he wanted to.

"She can't control anyone, but she keeps trying." Even with Abuelo, Nana always tried to make him fit her mold.

"Exactly. So when she tries too hard, I leave. When she misses me, I come back."

"Why do you keep coming back?" Gwen had asked the question before, but never received an explanation. Only the same four words.

"Because I love her." Gwen rolled her eyes, and Toni held up a hand. "It is true, Gwen. She is the most magnificent woman I have ever known. I can't stop hoping she will change just a little and let me stay. Maybe this time it will work out."

"Are you and grandma together again? I thought, after Mom died-" They had come together to take care of Mom in her last month. It had been wonderful to have everyone together. Until the funeral. Then Abuelo had left. It was the first time Gwen had seen him leave Nana's house without them getting into a terrible fight. Somehow, the silence was worse. Gwen had thought they were through with each other for good.

"We agreed to wait a year before we try again. We need time to heal." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "So do you."

"That's what Nana said when she forced me to move in with her."

"You were not doing very well on your own, so I hear."

So what if she had refused to go outside for two months straight? Gwen had ordered her groceries online and did the dishes often enough that the leftover bits of food didn't have a chance to walk away with the plates.

"Nana didn't help." It was her only defense.

"No, no she didn't." Abuelo gestured at the house. "Maybe this place will be better."

"Maybe I can find a way to get Dad to take me back." She had had plenty of time to sort through possibilities on the drive.

A look crossed Abuelo's face, as if his wine had started moving about on its own inside his stomach. He set his drink aside. "What have you got in mind?"

Gwen leaned forward and he leaned in to meet her. "Do you remember cousin Sofia and the crossroads demon?"

Abuelo's face became even greener. "Yes. What does a Halloween bedtime story have to do with you father?"

"Dad thinks that his life is too dangerous for me. I think I can prove him wrong, and maybe I could help you, too. You said the demon came for you. You said it took your voice when you refused to make a deal." That was where Abuelo had always drawn the line. He would put up with anything from Nana, he lived in cheap motels following bands around the world, but he wouldn't sell his soul.

"Yes," Toni said warily. "But that was a story. You never believed it."

"You did. You do. You know demons are real, and now I do too."

"Your father is involved with demons?"

"My father kills demons."

Abuelo leaned back and gave her a hard look. "That is impossible. When you see a demon you call a priest, and the priest performs an exorcism. It is impossible to kill a demon. They always come back. Trust me Gwen, I know."

"Dad knows how. We just have to trap it, all you have to do is draw a circle with a star in it." Uncle Dean had left her a list of instructions. "Then we call Dad, and he'll have to come to take care of it. Dad will know I can handle whatever happens, and he'll want me with him." Either that, or she would mess up big time and need help. Dad would have to come. Either way, she got what she wanted.

"No." There was no debate in Abuelo's tone.

"No? But you could be free of that demon who-"

"That demon is Sofia! That is what happens when they take your soul. They turn you into one of them. That is why she always comes back for me. She taught me to play the guitar when I was a small boy. I thought she was the best musician in the world. Then she died, and ten years later I heard her voice talking out of another woman's body." Abuelo shuddered and shook his head. "No. Gwen, there is nothing good that can come of this. Either you kill Sofia and an innocent woman, or she stays a demon. Either way is no good. Sometimes that's just life. Sometimes there is no happy ending."

Gwen shook her head. "No, we don't kill it. We trap it. They can make this special jar, and it can never get out."

"Then Sofia can sit on the shelf for all eternity? She will still be a demon. That doesn't help her. No, Gwen. No. You leave this alone. For me."

There was something about his tone that made Gwen nod instantly. "Ok. Ok. I won't try to find Sofia."

Abuelo latched onto her shoulder. Something about her words had shaken him up more than Nana ever could. "You can't control your father, Gwen. You can't make him be the person you want. That is what your grandmother does, and you know how that works out."

Gwen felt as if she'd been kicked in the stomach. "I know I can't make him do anything. I'm just going to show him he's wrong. Make sure he doesn't forget me."

"How could he forget you?" Abuelo paused, and she could see the wheels turning. A mischievous smile spread across his face. "I may have a few ideas to help you with that."

 **Lyrics are from Something Just Like This by The Chainsmokers and Coldplay. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Thanks for reading. Please review!**


	23. Delivery

**Updates will not be as frequent for a little while. I have started grad school, and my professors seem to think that doing assignments is more important than fanfiction (I don't know why.) So there will be more, but I don't know how fast I'll get updates up until the semester is over in December.**

 **Delivery**

The Talk. Sam remembered clearly the day that John Winchester sat his sons down for The Talk. Most parents did this sort of thing when a kid hit thirteen, or when his voice started to change. It was an awkward affair where a father tried to sloppily explain all of the things people 'aren't supposed to talk about.' It generally ended with a game of football or an ice cream cone. At least, that's how the other kids in Sam's class related the experience to him.

When John Winchester gave The Talk, things were a little different. At sixteen Sam had assumed that his dad was too obsessed with hunting to bother with things like puberty. After all, Dean was twenty and made no secret of his many, many experiences. What was there to talk about?

It had been a shock when Dad met them at the motel door after an evening at the arcade, sat them both down, and started in on The Talk. Boys. Girls. What they should and should not do together, where they should not do it, and why. A sideways glance at Dean proved his big brother was as surprised as he. The lecture ended with clear guidelines for avoiding STDs, and a rundown of good vs. 'never use these they'll break' condom brands. Afterwards, they went to re-stock the salt and gasoline stores in the trunk

Sam hadn't given it a second thought. John Winchester did not act like most parents. Sam had stopped wishing for his father to be normal, and just wished that he could be gone.

The thought he could have left a child behind never crossed his mind.

The idea that John knew, and would keep that from him-Sam's mind had been circling that thought for days. He couldn't stop remembering The Talk, which had happened exactly three months after they left Jackson, Ohio.

Not for the first time, Sam wished he could speak to his father. The vast void of unanswered questions the man had left in his wake only grew with time. But there was no way to fill the void, no way to speak with his father. John Winchester was long gone, and Sam was left to figure out how to be a parent alone.

o0o

Dean could tell someone had been down the road even before the bunker came into sight. No one else used this drive, yet the gravel had shifted. Dean narrowed his eyes, but didn't disturb Sam, who sat gazing out the passenger window with his head in the clouds. Or Sioux Falls.

He'd been doing that a lot in the week since they had left Gwen.

A Fed Ex truck sat in front of the bunker. The driver was using a small pushcart to unload a series of boxes and add them to a growing stack by the door. From the weathered look of the boxes at the bottom of the stack, they had been there for a few days.

The driver's face brightened when he saw the car, and he approached the window with a clipboard in hand. "Can one of you sign for this? I have a few packages that can't be left. Been out here every day for a week, but no one was home."

Sam blinked, as if he'd just woken up. "What?"

"Did you order anything, Sammy? Because I didn't."

Sam shook his head. "No."

"Well, someone did. Please, sir, just sign and I can get them off my truck. You can do whatever you want with them from there."

Dean clambered out of the car and went to investigate a particularly large package lying in the back of the delivery truck. "That's big and long and…" he measured the proportions with his hands. "Did someone send us a body?"

The delivery man's brows rose in alarm. "What? No, no can't be. It's marked 'electronic music equipment.'"

"Music equipment?" Sam repeated. "It would be about the right size for a keyboard. But why-" He took the clipboard and looked at the ticket, and his eye went wide. "It's from Jackson. It's all from Jackson."

"Things are quiet. She'll do fine." Did his brother hear the _I told you so_ behind every word? "Oh yeah, this is a cry for attention."

"It's been three weeks. She could have sent for this stuff before she left here." It was a false hope and they both knew it. Dean didn't know what Sam was complaining about. His brother had wanted to go back to Sioux Falls ever since they left.

"You think whatever you want to, Sammy." Dean picked up a box labeled 'fragile' and rattled it.

The delivery man dumped the last box off the end of his fender and scrambled back into his truck. "Have a good day!" He hurried away before anyone could talk to him about a return shipment.

o0o

There was something self-satisfied about the smile in Gwen's tone when she answered the phone. Oh, those packages? That's right, she'd asked Roxy to mail them. Roxy must have gotten them sent before she got Gwen's new address. Did Gwen want it all shipped to Jody's? Well, maybe. She wasn't sure. She'd have to unpack and see what she had room for.

He should say no. A responsible parent wouldn't let her get away with something like this. Right? He could just mail all her stuff of Jody's. Or send it back to Jackson.

Jackson. They all had to be there next week for a court date, and Sam had yet to hear from his attorney. The one that Jody had recommended. The person who was supposed to help him figure out how to keep Aggie from interfering. "It's odd the judge granted the order at all," she had said. "At Gwen's age, she should be able to decide for herself regarding family visits. But this whole case is odd." She had promised to look into it and get back to Sam. That had been two weeks ago.

"Two weeks, Sammy. It's only been two weeks." Dean surveyed the leftovers on the kitchen counter with a somewhat disappointed frown.

"I want to see her." Sam didn't know how to stop the words sounding like they belonged to a petulant 5 year old who had lost a new toy. Gwen wasn't a toy. No. But she had brought something new to their lives, something bright and fresh. Faced with a foe called the Darkness who was older than creation and a vision of the case he still didn't understand, bright and fresh was exactly what Sam needed. Wanted. Missed.

How could he miss someone he had barely known for a month?

"Well, we can have the car loaded and ready to go in about ten minutes." Dean made it sound so simple, but Sam couldn't argue.

o0o

The soccer ball flew straight at Dean's head, and he smashed his fist into it as if it were a vampire's open maw.

Dean didn't play soccer. He didn't play sports, period. Yet here he was in Jody's back yard defending a goal made out of cardboard boxes.

He hadn't complained when Sam asked to stop at the store on the way here. He hadn't said a word when his brother picked up the ball. Dean had been ready with popcorn and a beer to watch from the sidelines. He still wasn't sure where it had all gone wrong.

Gwen should have been nice to him; after all they brought her stuff. Alex didn't hate him, he was pretty sure. Claire had gotten over the urge to beat his brains in. So why, why had they all betrayed him?

Alex, Gwen, and Claire all stared open-mouthed at the half-deflated ball as it hissed in the grass, slowly leaking more air.

"Wow."

"Um-that's not-"

"You said a goalie can us his hands!" Dean had made sure this rule was very, very clear.

Sam didn't bother to cover his grin. "Yeah, the goalie can use his hands. But, um, you're not supposed to use the knife."

Dean looked at his hand. He'd pulled his knife out of his waistband without even thinking about it. "Oh. Right. It's a stupid game anyway."

o0o

They came back.

Gwen hugged the wrecked soccer ball to her chest, and the sound of the Impala leaving didn't seem so bad. She knew she would hear it again. Because they had come back.

First, they had brought her packages, but that was just because she hadn't given them any other choice. Then, Dad had brought her a soccer ball. How he had known, she wasn't sure, but she wouldn't put it past Abuelo to have given him a tip.

Now, they had visited again, with a story about a bunch of costumes that made people turn into killers. Uncle Dean liked the clown one best.

Dad didn't like clowns. He didn't like peas, either. Uncle Dean ate everything, but complained about every single vegetable on his plate. It was strange to think about what they did-killing things-when they acted like middle school boys at the dinner table.

It didn't matter. They came back. They had come three times, and they would come again. Dad promised to see a soccer game this summer. Uncle Dean told her that when winter was over, he'd bring her that bike they had stored in the bunker. And teach her how to ride it.

Nana couldn't stop her riding a bike her _uncle_ gave her. Nana visited every month right on schedule. After a long talk with the lawyer, Gwen had agreed to the visits to avoid a courtroom brawl. But Nana wasn't in charge of Gwen, Dad was. Nana came to visit, but so did Dad. He came even without her mailing him more packages. She didn't need blackmail, even though Roxy and Avery were ready just in case.

 _I have a family_. Gwen pressed the soccer ball tighter to her chest. It was the best present she'd ever gotten.

o0o

Christmas in America. Gwen watched Jody and her friend Donna haul in the pine tree, and wondered at the thought. Claire and Alex were already fighting over what to put on the tree, while Bing Crosby sang about snow in the background. Even though there wasn't any snow, only deep gray clouds and withered grass. South Dakota did not look like the traditional Christmas postcard. According to her the few friends she had started making at school, that was typical.

No one here had heard of tapas, and they thought that Santa come on Christmas Eve instead of Three Kings Day. The Torres family always spent Christmas in Spain. It didn't matter whether Nana and Abuelo were fighting. Even when Mom had been sick and getting ready for chemo, she had taken the trip. Christmas happened with Abuelo's family.

But Abuelo hadn't sent her a ticket yet, and Gwen hadn't asked for one. Gwen wasn't going to Spain this year. She already missed the smell of Spanish hot chocolate and her cousin Maria's boiled shrimp, but it didn't matter. This year, Gwen was going to spend Christmas with her dad.

Jody's phone rang, and Gwen's ears perked at the mention of her father's name.

"Sam? Slow down, what-" Jody glanced at Gwen and made a hasty exit from the room. Gwen followed.

"Are you ok?" Jody sounded worried. "What do you mean if you don't come back? What are you planning?" According to Roxy, Dad and Uncle Dean had done a lot of dangerous things. They had even died. But Gwen wasn't sure how much of that she believed. Hunting monsters was one thing, but those books? It was too much.

"You know I will, Sam. Gwen will have a place here no matter what happens. Are you sure there isn't another way?" Jody sighed. "Yes, I will. Are you going to tell her? Yes, she's here." Jody turned and took a half-step back when she saw Gwen hovering the doorway. She narrowed her eyes in disapproval, but held out the phone. "Your dad wants to talk to you."

Her tone was clipped and carefully cheerful, the tone grown-ups used then they _weren't_ telling kids bad news.

Gwen felt numb. She held the phone up to her ear, and Dad's voice was there, soft with a bit of a quiver. It wasn't a tone she had heard before, and it didn't sound good. "Hi Gwen."

"Hi Dad, what's up? I think you scared Jody." _You scared me_.

"How is everything going? You getting ready for Christmas?" His voice was clipped and cheerful, too. As if he was trying not to think about something bad.

"Yeah. We're getting the tree up and I've done all my shopping. Uncle Dean told me what you like." She didn't know if that was a threat or a bribe, she wasn't sure how much she believed Uncle Dean's 'list of Sam's favorite things.' You'll be here on the 23rd, right?" She had the date circled on her calendar, and had counted the days. An entire week with Dad had been promised. She felt like it was already Christmas morning, and all of the presents had been snatched out of her hands unopened.

"That's the plan."

 _Uh-oh_. That didn't sound good.

Sam swallowed hard. "Look, Gwen. Something came up and I don't know if I'll be there on time. I just-if anything happens, I wanted you to know I didn't forget, ok?"

"What could happen?" She wasn't sure if she was breathing anymore. Her head felt light, disconnected from her body. Demons were real. Costumes were haunted. Clowns could kill. It had sounded funny when Uncle Dean talked about it, but it didn't sound funny now.

"You know we have a dangerous job, Gwen. Sometimes there are things that we have to do-" Sam sucked in a breath. "Wow, I sound like my father. I didn't-" He halted again. "I'm sorry. I have to do something that could be dangerous, and if it doesn't go the way I want, I wanted you to know. I spent a lot of holidays wondering where my dad was. I didn't want to do that to you." He made a sharp, aggravated noise. "Maybe I shouldn't have called."

Which was worse, to be forgotten or wait up worrying?

"I'm glad you did." Her breath was back, and the words came out in a rush. "I know you wouldn't forget. But can't it wait? I mean, Christmas is really soon."

"It's now or never." His tone was hard now, determined. "I love you."

Gwen felt warmth blossom in her middle. He hadn't said that before. Then, the line was dead. Gwen handed the phone back to Jody. "What is he going to do?"

"Go talk to the devil."

"The devil? Why?"

Jody shrugged. "He didn't really explain, but it sounded important."

 _I'm important!_ Gwen wanted to shout, but she settled for slamming the door to her bedroom. Jody didn't try to follow. Gwen kicked the soccer ball off her bed. It lay in the corner, a misshapen lump. She pulled out her phone and called up Abuelo's email. It might not be too late to get a ticket after all.

 **NOTE: Sam is calling Gwen during the episode in season 11 when he is getting ready to go down to Hell to talk to Lucifer in the cage. Up next: A Winchester Family Christmas with a Torres twist!**


	24. Christmas

**Thanks for waiting. There may be another few week break before the next update. I hope you enjoy.**

 **Spoilers: This is set immediately after "O Brother Where Art Thou/Devil in the Details" in Season 11**

 **Christmas**

"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!" Bing Crosby warbled from the radio. Holiday classics were Gwen's favorite. They made the festivities feel timeless, made her feel connected to the people who had celebrated in years past. She could pretend she was sitting down to dinner or unwrapping presents with her bis-abuela, or her father. Or her mother.

Gwen sniffed and scrunched her nose, giving her face something else to do so that the tears wouldn't come. She didn't need to cry again. She had done enough of that. But as soon as they started hanging the tinsel and greenery, she had felt the old gnawing in the pit of her stomach. The empty space that reminded her the most important person in her life wasn't here anymore.

It didn't look like Christmas at all. There was no nativity scene in this house, a must-have in her aunt's Spanish Catholic home. There was no mistletoe here, something Abuelo had always insisted on. There was no gift-wrapping table complete with a bow-making machine, colored tape, and name tags (Nana liked a well-dressed gift). There was no camera perched on its tripod as Mom snapped off photos for her studio's advertising album.

No. There might be a tree and there might be stockings over the mantle, but it didn't look like Christmas at all.

 _This is when you'll miss her the most._ That was what the grief counselor had said, that was what the hospice nurse had said. Everyone agreed that this Christmas would feel the worst. Gwen had thought she was ready for it.

She had thought she would be able to handle it. She had a plan. She had a distraction. She would be so busy having fun with her dad that she wouldn't notice Mom was gone.

Mom was dead.

Burned to ash and scattered under her favorite tree.

Gwen didn't want to put her dad in a jar, too. Would she even know, if he died? Would anyone tell her?

Maybe she didn't want to know. She wished he hadn't called at all. Now the yawning dark pit inside her was growing, swallowing Christmas and everything 'jolly' in its wake.

That was why she had her phone in her pocket, so she would know the instant she got any news. She wasn't waiting for Dad to call. No. She was waiting for Abuelo to tell her he'd gotten her ticket. To tell her when she could leave this place and go somewhere familiar.

Someplace that felt like Christmas.

Gwen was already packing her bag. She had been at it for the past half an hour, and it was still only half-full. It took time to select the proper pajamas for Christmas morning, to decide what she would do with her hair when they all went to mass. To leave enough space for presents while still packing enough underwear.

It didn't matter that she had packed for this trip every year of her life. She wasn't waiting for Dad to call. She was making sure she got it right.

Bzzz! The phone vibrated in her pocket, and Gwen had it out and pressed to her ear before she could even look at the caller id.

Dad? "Hello?"

"Hey, Gwen." The voice was rough and deep, but held that gentle undertone that meant bad news. Gwen's chest clenched. _Uncle Dean_. Why would Uncle Dean call? Why wouldn't Dad call? "Just wanted to let you know we're not gonna make it for Christmas Eve. We'd like to, but the car only goes so fast. But we'll be there for Christmas. Ok?"

Gwen let out a breath. "Oh. Ok."

"Unless you don't want us to come? Jody said something about you packing a bag, going to Spain. That's fine. We don't mind." His tone mirrored hers _. I don't care but I really, really do!_

"No! That's-I mean-Dad called and I thought you weren't coming at all, so...are you ok? I mean, Dad said you were doing something dangerous."

"We're a bit black and blue, but all limbs still attached. Nothing a cold beer won't fix."

"What happened?"

"Got our asses handed to us. Nothing to worry about."

"That's not really an explanation."

"Look, reception out here isn't very good. We'll talk when we get there. Ok?" He didn't give her a chance to agree. There was a crackle of static, and he was gone.

Gwen pressed the phone to her chest. _Dad's ok._

The phone buzzed again. It was a new email from abuelo. _Got the ticket. Meet you at the airport. 3 am._

He was already on his way, with a flight lined up to take them both to Spain. Gwen looked down at her half-packed bag.

What did she want for Christmas?

o0o

"Can I use the siren?" Gwen could see the bright red button on the dash, and she was pretty sure what it was for.

The night shift deputy glared at her and shook his head. Gwen thought a person who stayed up all night every night would be in a better mood in the wee hours of the morning, but he was as cranky as anyone who had just been roused from bed.

Of course, he had been assigned to drive her to the airport while Jody slept. Perks of the job.

Gwen kept her hands to herself and watched the lights of the airport grow closer. The roads were dead, no other traffic to be seen. It was Christmas Eve, and sensible people were tucked away in bed.

Gwen should be, too. But Abuelo had spent a good thousand dollars on a ticket to Europe that she wasn't going to use. She owed it to him to tell him in person.

Toni came off the plane with his arms open wide and a grin meant just for her. She leaned into the hug; it was the best she had felt in a week. Then he picked up his bag and marched toward the exit with a nod at the deputy. "Is this kind gentleman our ride home?"

"Our ride? But-tia Maria-"

"Tia Maria knows things will be different this year."

"But you got me a ticket-"

"I got me a ticket here, nina." Toni smiled and wrapped and arm around her shoulder to usher her towards the doors. "And I brought everything we'll need for tapas!"

"You knew I would want to stay?"

Toni shrugged. Then he spotted the squad car and turned to the deputy, eyes twinkling. "Can we use the siren?"

o0o

The car was quiet except for the swish of tires moving over asphalt and the gentle hum of the engine. Sammy was asleep, head pressed against the window, oblivious as they crossed the long miles to Sioux Falls. Already his bruises were beginning to darken, but it wasn't the leftovers from the fist-fight with the devil that had Dean worried.

"No." It was a soft moan. Sam twitched, then settled back down.

Dean let out a sigh and gave himself yet another mental kick for agreeing to the plan that involved talking to the devil. Not that he could have stopped any of this. As Sam had demonstrated, if Dean didn't go with him, he would go without him.

 _Why didn't you wait for me, Sammy?_

If Dean had been there, his brother would never have been trapped in that cage alone. Dean didn't know what had happened in the endless minutes before he arrived, but he knew it wasn't good. He knew it had dredged up a slew of memories that were best kept buried.

Sam wasn't in danger of losing his grip on reality again, but he wasn't ok, either. Dean knew that without asking. His brother was hurting, but there was nothing Dean could do to fix it.

It was the worst feeling in the world.

Dean couldn't have been happier when the Welcome to Sioux Falls sign hove into view. This year, he didn't have to steal presents for Sammy. This year, he wasn't going to drink eggnog out of a paper cup or have a Christmas tree decorated with whatever was handy at the filling station.

This year they were going to have their first proper Christmas. A house. A big tree. A turkey for dinner (Jody had promised) and stockings on the mantle. Dean had a giant sack of candy in the back-seat just for that. It was tucked next to the wrapping-paper explosion that was Gwen's present.

Dean didn't have much experience with wrapping things. The creases were a little crooked and the bow was a little limp, but it would do.

Dean tugged at Sam's sleeve to wake him as he pulled into the drive. The first hints of sunlight were visible on the horizon, but the lights on the tree shone warmly out of the living room window. Sam's eyes blinked open, and he stared at the homey sight.

"Merry Christmas brother."

"Merry Christmas." A small smile made its way across Sam's face.

Good.

"They're here!" The squeal was all the warning they had before Gwen barreled into them, tackling first Sam, then Dean, and squeezing them so tight they nearly bonked foreheads.

"Welcome!" Toni's baritone called from the kitchen. He emerged in a red apron covered in flour, Santa cap perched on his head at a jaunty angle. Music followed in his way, a tinny voice singing merrily from the phone tucked in his pocket.

"It's Christmas at ground zero! There's panic in the crowd. We can dodge the debris as we trim the tree underneath the mushroom cloud."

Dean blinked. That was not a Christmas song he had heard before. Toni danced his way back into the kitchen and set out plates on the table, followed by a giant stack of pancakes.

Alex and Claire were already seated at the table, stuffing their faces. Dean wasted no time filling his plate, and Sam followed suit. Gwen pushed the syrup and butter toward them, but her eyes were on their faces. On the bruises now turning a deep purple and the nicks and cuts across their knuckles.

Claire's eyes glittered with curiosity. "Wow. What did you two-" She halted, staring at something over Dean's shoulder. Dean turned to see Jody, her hair sticking up in all directions, wrapped in a fluffy robe. She rubbed her eyes and looked around the kitchen, blinking as she took in the scene.

"Who has been cooking in my kitchen?" Her eyes passed over Claire, who did not cook, and Alex, who only burned things when she tried to cook, and Dean, who she knew only ate fast-food. Her gaze landed on Toni, and her eyes opened wide in surprise. "You. What are you doing here?"

"Making you breakfast!"

"I told you to stay out of my kitchen. You're supposed to be in Spain with Gwen." Her eyes moved over the table again, and Gwen waved with a hopeful smile. "Gwen? I thought you left."

"I changed my mind." Gwen looked at the table, avoiding Sam's eyes.

"Hmm." Jody looked at Toni again, and then at the explosion of flour that littered the kitchen counters. The phone in his pocket chimed, "I want a hippopotamus for Christmas! Only a hippopotamus will do!"

Jody ignored the questionable song choice, instead focusing on more practical mattes. "What did you do to my kitchen?"

"I made breakfast!" Toni held out the plate. "Merry Christmas."

"He-haw! Hee-haw!" The phone had moved on to a new song. "It's Dominick the Christmas Donkey!"

Jody blinked again and shook her head. "Turn that off."

"Yes, ma'am!" Toni fiddled with his pocket, and the music died. Jody gave Toni another sideways look, then accepted a plate of pancakes and a mug of coffee.

Once the table was cleared they landed in the living room. Dean sat cross-legged on the floor and stared up at the tree. He felt like he was four years old again. But the present that Jody placed in his hands was decorated with beer mugs. Dean rattled the box, wondering what was inside.

Jody moved on to Sam. She pressed a small package into his hands and asked softly, so the girls couldn't hear, "Are you alright?" So, she had noticed the haunted look, too.

"I'm fine," Sam said in a tone that meant he would make sure he held it together for the party.

And it was a great party. There wasn't any booze, and Dean wasn't going to get any action with the ladies here-didn't even want it. None of the things Dean had once considered necessary for a 'good time' were present. Yet somehow, it was better.

There was an energy between Jody and Alex, a sense of family and belonging that Dean so rarely saw reflected in others. And they opened up that circle of care to everyone in the room. Claire and Alex fought every five minutes, but they were both kind to Gwen. He could tell as they watched Gwen open her presents that they hadn't gotten gifts just because they had to. They wanted her to feel welcome.

They had accepted her as part of their family.

It was the first time Dean had gotten more than one present, and one wrapped in real paper and not the comic strips from last Sunday's news. They kept landing in his lap, one after the other.

After the presents were opened and half the candy from the stockings eaten, Gwen settled next to Sam. She had an intent look in her eye, but he was too relaxed to notice.

"So, Dad, what happened?" She brushed her finger lightly against his bruised knuckles.

"Ah." Dean could see the moment. He could see Sam open his mouth, whether to make something up or tell the truth he wasn't sure. But then he saw the memories sweep through. Sam's face barely twitched, and Gwen certainly wouldn't be able to tell that inside, his brother was writhing.

But Dean knew.

"Can we talk about it later?" Sam gestured to the presents and merrymaking all around. Well, maybe 'merry' was a stretch, as Jody was haggling with Toni about who got to do what in the kitchen, and Alex as bickering with Claire-it didn't seem to matter what they were fighting about, as long as they could snipe at each other.

Gwen frowned. "Dad, I want to know-"

"Hey, want to try out your new gear?" Dean gestured to the pile of soccer supplies he and Sam and bought for her. They still lay atop their wrapping, but the shrill squeal Gwen had produced when she opened them told him it would all be well-used. Dean grabbed the soccer ball and tossed it at his niece.

She raised one surprised eyebrow. "You killed the last one. Remember?"

"No knives. I promise. See?" Dean reached into his jacket and removed the knife, setting it on the sofa table.

Gwen's eyes flicked toward Sam, a look that said she might be lured away for now, but she wasn't going to let this go.

"Soccer, Dean?" Sam asked.

"It's Christmas, isn't that the day for doing things we hate with the people we love?" Dean took up the goalie helmet and slipped it over his head with a grin that Sam, thankfully, mirrored.

o0o

Christmas. Sam sat back on the couch and stared at the tree, shinning softly in the evening light. He had never had a Christmas like this. Not with Dad, not with Jess, not ever. He'd seen enough magic to know that 'magical' was not the word to describe the warm, fuzzy feeling he'd gotten watching Gwen open her presents. But he also couldn't think of a better description. Hex-bags and voodoo aside, this Christmas had a power all its own.

For a few moments, Sam had forgotten what had happened in Hell. Why he had gone to the cage. What he had faced there. How he had almost gotten his brother trapped with him.

They had escaped, yes. They would never go back, ever. Sam knew that now. Knew for certain he would never be tempted to say 'yes' to Lucifer ever again. It was a strange comfort, that newfound certainty. But it didn't stop the memories. It didn't stop the dreams.

Sam settled his pillow and blanket on the couch, because Dean insisted on taking the less-comfortable chair by losing the traditional game of rock-paper-scissors. But he didn't want to close his eyes. When he closed them, this magical Christmas would vanish and he would be back in the Cage.

The creak of a floorboard announced a presence in the hallway. Sam looked up to see Toni standing at the edge of the room, watching him with a calculating look that seemed out of place against the man's usually easy-going expression.

"Sam Winchester." He said the name as if he were testing it out, not sure if he liked the taste or not. "My granddaughter tells me that you can kill a demon. She tells me that you hunt monsters."

Sam closed his eyes. Uh-oh. He'd warned Gwen not to talk to anyone outside of Jody's home about that.

"And then she calls me crying because she thinks that you have gone to get yourself killed."

Sam blinked. Wait. Hadn't the Spaniard missed a step? This conversation was supposed to be about how demons couldn't be real.

"When I come to comfort her, I find you colored all shades of purple." He used a finger to gesture to the bruises decorating Sam's face. "And hear whispers of something worse than demons. So."

Toni crossed his arms, considering. Sam waited.

"Is Gwen in danger with you?"

Sam's stomach clenched. _Yes_. "No. That's why I brought her here. Jody will know how to protect her if anything happens."

"Is something likely to happen?"

Sam closed his eyes again and shook his head. "I never know. Do you want her to go with you? Would that be better?"

Toni snorted. "No. There are dangers of a different sort in the places I work." His eyes frowned at Sam for another moment. "Just remember she has other family. You are not the only one who loves her. You are not the only one who is willing to help care for her."

Sam nodded. "I know, and I appreciate that."

"Good." Toni's mouth opened wide in a yawn, and he shuffled toward Gwen's room. She had surrendered her bed to him, and had spread a sleeping bag on the living room floor for herself.

Sam went back to fidgeting with his bedcovers until Dean emerged from the bathroom in his nightwear. His eyes flicked over Sam as he settled in the armchair and popped up the footrest. "You know, we could stay up and play a round of poker."

"No. Last time I let you talk me into that, I wound up on bathroom duty for three weeks."

Dean grinned. He had never failed to beat his little brother when there were chore I. O. Us. on the line. "Yeah, good times."

Sam threw a pillow at him. "Go to sleep, Dean."

Dean settled back in the chair and closed his eyes, but whether he was actually unconscious was anybody's guess.

Another creak sounded in the hallway, but this time Sam looked up to see Gwen there. She didn't pause at a respectful distance as Toni had. She planted herself a foot from his nose. Her tone was soft in deference to Dean's sleeping form, but her words were not.

"Dad, I want to know what happened."

Sam let out a sigh. "You'd probably be happier if you didn't."

Her look said otherwise, and Sam couldn't argue. He knew what it felt like to be denied information. He'd hated his own father for doing it.

"I want to know, Dad. I came here like you wanted. I'm doing good in school. I'm visiting Nana without a fuss, and I haven't mentioned the demon to her."

"You told your grandfather."

Gwen shrugged. "Abuelo already knew about them. I told you, he's met one before."

Right. Sam had forgotten.

"I'm almost eighteen. I'm old enough to know what's going on. Mom never hid her cancer from me."

"This isn't cancer, Gwen."

"I know. But I don't want to be left out, Dad. What happened?"

Sam gestured to the couch and they sat side by side. "Look, there are a lot of different kinds of monsters out there. Demons, vampire, werewolves, and other things. Something really bad got lose, something worse than all the rest. So we had to go ask something almost as bad for help." Sam paused. "It didn't go well."

"Who did you ask?"

"The devil."

"There's something worse than the devil?"

Sam nodded. "The original darkness that made the devil go evil in the first place."

"Oh." Gwen's face was expressionless. "Wow."

"I'm sorry I scared you. Would you rather I didn't call?"

She bit her lip, and Sam could tell she wasn't sure how to answer. "I'd rather you didn't go at all."

"Yeah, me too. But I had to, Gwen. I need you to understand that. If you want to be part of my life, this is something you have to learn how to deal with."

Her response was a frown he knew all to well. She was as stubborn as him.

When it came to hunting, that wasn't a good thing.

Sam wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and she hugged him back. "We'll figure out how to get better at this."

She nodded and looked up at him, eyes bright. "I'm glad you made it for Christmas."

o0o

The sound was soft, barely louder than the electric hum of the refrigerator, but it woke Dean with more force than a tornado siren. His brother's voice could always do that.

On the couch, Sam twitched and shifted. A small moan exited his mouth. "No."

Another dream. Dean waited, watching to see if it would get worse. Startling Sam awake now would be a bad idea, only advisable if absolutely necessary. It might pass in a few moments.

Sam let out a groan, and Gwen raised her head with a gasp. "Dad?" She scrambled toward him.

Uh-oh.

Now was _not_ a good time to startle Sam. Whatever was happening in that dream, he would be in fighting mode.

"Gwen!" Dean kept his voice low.

She didn't spare him a glance. Her hand was already on Sam's shoulder, shaking him awake. "Dad!"

Dean shot out of his chair, but not soon enough. Sam's entire body went rigid, and then his arm lashed out against the figure in front of him. Gwen yelped as she was shoved backwards. She narrowly missed landing in the tree, but fell against the wall with a crunch.

Not good.

Sam's hand darted under his pillow and came up with his gun. His eyes were open and his firing hand steady, but Dean was certain he wasn't awake yet, wasn't seeing what was real. Otherwise, he wouldn't be pointing the weapon at Gwen. Her eyes grew wide, and she slid sideways to get out of the line of fire.

Dean dived on Sam's arm, pushing the weapon up to aim at the ceiling. He put both hands on Sam's shoulder's and called his brother's name. "Sam!"

Sam struggled for a moment, but Dean only held him tighter. "Sam. I'm here. I got you., Sammy. You're out. You're safe. You're never going back there again. You hear me?"

"Dean?" Sam blinked, his voice shaky.

"You good?"

Sam nodded and melted back against the couch.

They both looked up as footsteps stampeded the hallway. Toni reached the doorway first, Jody not far behind. Toni darted to Gwen's side. She was crouched in the corner, face twisted in pain, arm clutched to her chest.

"What happened here?" There was no trace of the mild smile that usually covered Toni's face. His voice was hard.

"Gwen?" Sam lifted himself from the couch. His eyes flew wide when he saw his daughter, Toni crouching over her protectively. "Are you ok?"

"I think I need a doctor." She wasn't crying, but she looked like she wanted to.

Dean squatted next to her. Toni shifted slightly to give him room, but didn't go far. Dean ran probing fingers up and down Gwen's arm. "Nothing broken, just dislocated. I can fix that up in a jiff."

"I think a hospital is best." Toni's words were sharp, leaving no room for argument.

"I'll drive." Sam hauled himself up from the couch, jaw clenched.

Toni's frowned deepened, but Gwen nodded. "Yes, please." Dean already had her coat in hand and wrapped it around her shoulders. He lifted her up and carried her, placing her gently in the Impala's back seat. Toni settled next to her, an arm wrapped around her unhurt shoulder.

Sam paused in the driveway.

"It wasn't your fault, Sam."

But words didn't matter right now. All Sam saw was the girl in the back seat, hurting. She would heal, she would be fine, but Sam wouldn't see that. Not yet.

Dean could already tell they wouldn't be visiting Sioux Falls again for a while.

 **Songs included "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas." "It's Christmas at Ground Zero" by Weird Al, "I want a hippopotamus for Christmas" and "Dominick the Italian Christmas Donkey"**

 **I love reviews! Please take a moment to tell me what you think.**


	25. Broken Promises

**This takes place before and after "Don't You Forget About Me" Season 11 episode 12.**

 **Broken Promises**

Sam's daughter. The words still sounded strange to Jody, even though she had been watching over Gwen more than three months now. She hadn't known Sam when he was young, but if he had a temper anything like Gwen's in those days, she had deep sympathy for Sam's father.

Temper, tears, and laughter. Gwen switched between them as quickly as flipping a light switch. Jody had learned to be most troubled when Gwen was quiet, and Gwen had been quiet for the past three weeks. The doctors assured them that only Gwen's shoulder was injured, but Gwen's mouth had been set in a severe line ever since the Impala pulled out of the drive on Christmas day.

Jody had grown accustomed to seeing the Winchesters every week or so over the past months. Their visits had become more frequent. Three weeks after Christmas, and she hadn't seen them once.

But Gwen hadn't thrown a fit yet. Jody almost wished she would, just to get it out of the way. Something was going to break, and soon.

Jody knew the moment had come when she looked up to see Gwen standing at the doorway to her study. Her hand rested on the sling that held her injured arm tight to her chest. Her face was set, but not in pain. No, this look was deliberate, determined.

"We need to talk about hunting."

Jody raised both eyebrows. It was not the opener she had expected. "What about it?"

"Dad thinks its not safe for me." Gwen shifted her sling. "I kind of proved him right. So. I need to learn. I need to learn what I need to do to keep myself safe no matter what happens."

Jody opened her mouth, but Gwen slapped a folder down on her desk. "Just hear me out." She pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to Jody, then took a second copy for herself. It was a list titled Why I Need to Hunt, with detailed bullet points numbered one through ten.

"I'll go off on my own and get myself into trouble." Jody read the first line, and raised her eyes to meet Gwen's. "That's exactly what we don't want to happen."

"Yes." Gwen tapped the next line, sub-point A. "Claire got arrested just last week because she was trying to hunt something in the YMCA's swimming pool that turned out to be a kid with special floatation device for his missing leg." Gwen pointed to sub-point B. "I'm stubborn enough to do it no matter what you say, and I turn eighteen soon. Better to teach me than let me get into trouble on my own, right?"

Jody drew in a deep breath, but could not argue the point. She moved down the list. "Number two, I'm a Winchester."

Gwen nodded. "Exactly. Sam is my dad. That means no matter how hard he tries to keep me away from it, even if I try to stay away from it, trouble might find me. I need to be prepared."

Jody scanned the rest of the list. "I think I'm getting the picture."

"Do I need to go on?"

Jody shook her head and set the list aside. "What do you propose? Hunting is dangerous, and right now you're injured."

Gwen pulled a different list from her folder and slid it into Jody's hands. "This is a list of martial arts studios around town. Uncle Dean showed me a few moves, but I need more. I like sports. I know how to practice to get my muscles strong, to learn train my reflexes to act without me needing to think about it. I can learn. I can even start now, with footwork and balance and stuff while my shoulder heals."

Already she had shown more awareness than Claire of what hunting would involve. Jody folded her hands in front of her. "Ok. What else?"

"I need to go on a hunt with you. Something easy. I need to learn what to look for, and not just a list of top ten tips. I need to see it and feel it. Practice."

"I didn't think you wanted to be a hunter." Claire resisted the mere mention of school, but Gwen turned in straight As and refused to let anyone interrupt her homework. She wanted to go to college.

"I don't."

"You don't want to be a hunter but you want to go on a hunt." It had to be said, just to be clear. Gwen nodded.

"Several. Yes. So that I can prove to Dad that I can handle it." _So he can stop being scared of me_ hung unspoken between them. The girl wasn't looking for a life-change, she just wanted a visit from her father.

If she called, Jody wondered, would they come? She might try to get to Dean first, and get him to work on his brother.

"Gwen, I know you miss Sam's visits, but hunting is dangerous."

Gwen tapped her finger on point number 2. Jody sighed. She wasn't wrong. "You have to promise to obey every word I say without question."

Gwen nodded. "Yes, ma'am!"

"Ok. After the sling comes off and the doctor clears you."

"Of course! I mean, I don't want my shoulder to get more-hurt." She held out her hand across the desk. "Deal."

o0o

"How are you doing?"

It was the same question every time Dad called or texted, in that same soft tone, as if he were expecting the worst.

Gwen rolled her eyes and wriggled her shoulder. A sharp pain shot through her arm, and she winced. Right. The sling was off, but she still wasn't supposed to do too much with that arm. "I'm fine, Dad. Completely fine. In one piece and always have been. What about you?"

"Fine. Busy. There's been a lot of work lately."

His words were hasty, as if he already knew what she was going to ask next. He wasn't wrong. She had been asking ever since Christmas.

Ever since he had vanished from the hospital and refused to visit again.

"Busy, huh?"

"Yeah." His response was not convincing.

"Well I've been busy, too."

Busy healing. Busy thinking.

"Yeah? What have you been up to?" Dad's voice sounded relieved. Finally, a safe topic of conversation.

Ha!

Gwen sucked in a deep breath. "I'm going on a hunt with Jody."

"What?" Panic wasn't the right word for the tone in his voice, but it was close.

"A hunt. You know, what you do."

"I know. I heard. But-why?" His tone was bewildered.

 _Why?_ "When are you going to come visit again?"

"Visit?" She had him trapped now, and he knew it. "I'm not sure that's a good idea, Gwen-" _I broke you last time_. As if she was a china plate instead of a person. As if he had hit her on purpose, instead of an accident that was halfway her fault anyway.

Her part she could fix. By learning to hunt.

"It was an accident, Dad! And it only happened because I didn't know what to do. That's why I'm going with Jody." She could feel the conversation slipping the wrong way, and reached for the list she had given Jody. It was all easier to see when it was laid out in black and white.

"Gwen, you can't hunt."

"You said I have a choice. You said you won't tell me how to live my life."

There was a moment of silence. "Yes, yes I did."

"Did you mean it?" She thought he had.

"I just don't want to see you hurt again. I can't take that." His tone was choked, his voice cracking.

"I don't want to lose another parent. I can't take that." Gwen bit out the words, and there were tears on her cheeks. "I miss you."

Dad's tone was soft again. "Gwen-I-Look, we are in the middle of a case right now, but we will visit soon. I promise."

 _Promise_.

"Ok."

"We'll talk about hunting then."

 _At least we'll talk_. Gwen frowned at the phone. It didn't matter what Dad said. She was pretty sure she had Jody convinced. And if Jody changed her mind, it still didn't matter. Gwen didn't like things she couldn't understand.

Hunting had shaped her life, even if she hadn't know it until recently. Hunting had brought her parents together. Hunting had taken her dad away again.

 _Starting over once again, this is where it all begins, it's right in front of me. Down is not where I belong, This aching heart won't turn to stone. There's a fire inside these bones, it was meant to be._ The soundtrack in her head was determined. Time to mix a playlist for this fight.

She wouldn't let hunting steal him a second time She was going to show Dad that she could handle it.

o0o

"Hunt's over," Dean declared. He nodded toward the road. "Sioux Falls?"

Sam's eyebrows drew together, and he shook his head.

"You promised. Sam, we have to go back. It was an accident, and it's not going to happen again."

"I know, Dean. Look, it's late and we're not that far from home. Let's spend the night at the bunker. Shower. Change. Pack fresh clothes and then go to Sioux Falls. Ok?"

It made sense. It was a good plan. But as Dean turned away from South Dakota and back towards Kansas, he couldn't shake the bad feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. Somehow, something was going to go wrong.

Something came the next morning in the form of a phone call from Claire. They were going to Sioux Falls for sure. Dean found his brother in the library.

"Hey, Sam, I've got a hunt for us."

Sam looked up from his book with mild curiosity. "Oh? Where?"

Dean grimaced. "Sioux Falls. I just got a call from Claire."

All of the blood drained from Sam's face, leaving his skin paler than Dean had ever seen it before. "Claire?" He repeated. "What about-"

"Everyone is fine," Dean said quickly. "Claire just thought they could use our help. I told her we'd be there tomorrow."

Sam was already out of his chair, book tossed aside without a second glance. "Tomorrow? We can be there tonight, don't you think?"

"I'm sure Jody is keeping the girls safe, Sam." Dean had to follow to talk to his brother; Sam was already halfway down the hall to the garage where the Impala was parked.

"Why didn't Jody call?" Sam's voice was tense. He opened the Impala's trunk and started doing the pre-hunt weapons check that usually fell to Dean.

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. We can go tonight, though. Not a problem." He watched in fascination as Sam moved through their routine packing drill at double-speed. Top off salt and gas reserves. Check all guns are loaded with a combination of salt, iron, and silver rounds. He even tested the jug of holy oil to make sure it was full.

Dean couldn't help but give an approving nod. "We'll be ready for anything."

A muscle in Sam's jaw twitched, and he gave a slight shake of his head. "Gwen wants to hunt."

"Yeah, you said." Dean had rarely seen his brother so panicked. "It's a good thing that we'll be there, then. We can make sure she's safe when she starts out-"

Sam shook his head. "Dean, everyone we've ever hunted with has died."

Not entirely true. "Garth is-"

"A werewolf. Tell me that's better."

Dean's mouth snapped closed. He took a breath and tried again. "We can keep her away from the fight, Sam."

"We can't guarantee she'll be safe, Dean. We never know where a monster will strike. She's in danger as long as she's in town."

"She's not going to go away for the weekend, Sam. She's been calling us both begging for a visit. Which you promised, by the way."

"I did, and I will. Visit. But not today." Sam's phone was already pressed to his ear. "Roxy? Hi, this is Sam. Gwen's dad." He frowned. "Yes, from the books-" Sam held the phone away from his ear, and Dean could hear the squeal. After a moment Sam tried again.

"Yes. No. No-Look. I need your help. Yes, you. I need Gwen to be somewhere safe for a few days. Do you think you could get her to go out of town for a while?" After a moment, he smiled. "Great. That sounds perfect. Just don't tell Gwen. It needs to be a secret for now."

Secret. Dean winced at the word. Secrets always went sour.

But he didn't say anything.

Sam wasn't wrong. They needed Gwen to be safe, just for a few days.

He'd rather deal with her anger than burn her corpse.

o0o

"I'm home!" Gwen sang out as she stepped over the threshold. A chorus of hellos greeted her, but they weren't very enthusiastic. Gwen frowned and stepped around the door to be able to see her house-mates assembled in the living room. Watching TV.

TV? Jody never had the TV on in the middle of the day. But there she was, sprawled on the couch with a bowl of popcorn on her belly. Her face was black-and-blue, and her leg stretched out in front of her encased in a bulky white cast.

Gwen let her duffel fall to the floor. "Oh my gosh what happened?"

"Vampires." Alex's face also bore a fine set of bruises, with more crawling down her neck in the shape of fingerprints. Her voice was tight. "Don't worry, they're taken care of."

"Damn straight." Claire had a proud gleam in her eye.

"There was a hunt here in town?" Gwen frowned. She had lost something. Something important, even if she didn't know what yet.

She was supposed to be on Jody's next hunt. They had a deal.

"It's a good thing you were gone," Alex said. She would. She hated hunting.

"But I wanted to see a hunt! Why didn't you call me?" Gwen turned back to Jody, and snapped her mouth shut again. "Are you ok?"

"I'll be fine. But this wasn't the kind of hunt for a beginner."

A rumble sounded outside. Gwen spun to face the door. She knew that sound. "Bad enough you thought you had to call for help?" Winchester help, arriving just after the problem was taken care of.

Which was fine. Now, she could finally talk to Dad. Show him she was fine.

Except that she hadn't been here for the hunt. She hadn't had a chance to prove herself. She hadn't had a chance to figure out if she wanted to be involved in any of this.

All because Roxy had called to invite her on a last-minute trip to the city. Senior skip day. Preparations for prom. Live-in-the-moment, now-or-never trip of a lifetime. Conveniently timed so that she would be gone exactly when vampires appeared in Sioux Falls.

Coincidence?

Dad didn't even knock, just walked through the door saying, "Sorry, Jody! We forgot the barbeque sauce-" He stopped at the sight of Gwen, and the look on his face said everything she needed to know.

No coincidence here.

Could he feel the heat pouring from her eyes? She hoped so. "Gwen! Uh-hi. You're back early."

"You forgot the sauce?" Gwen repeated the words slowly. "Like, you were here before? You were here while I was gone?" She turned back to look at Jody, Claire, and Alex with their bruises. "Roxy called to invite me to spend a few days in the city on the same day you realized there were vampires in town."

Jody's eyes narrowed and flicked toward Sam. Dad was already trying to explain. "Yes. It was dang-"

Dangerous? That wasn't the point. "I wanted to hunt."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You think you want to hunt-"

"I think?" Her anger was a hot fire, and she did nothing to tame it. "You think I don't know what I want?"

"I didn't mean-"

"I want to hunt! I want to see what the hunt is like. I want to know what it's like. There was a hunt here. I could have-"

"You could have been hurt!" Sam gestured toward Jody and her giant cast. "This was not a normal hunt, Gwen. They targeted Alex. You needed to be someplace safe."

"Safe? Dad! You lied to me. You asked my best friend to lie to me!"

Sam closed his eyes briefly. "No. Gwen, I wanted to protect you. That's my job. Keep you safe. Make sure you don't get hurt." His eyes flicked to her shoulder. "That's why I kept you out of this, and I'm not sorry I did. I'm your father. I have to keep you safe."

"I don't want to be safe. Life's not safe! My mom died and then you almost-and now-No!" Gwen stamped her foot.

"Gwen, you can't hunt. I can't let you hunt."

"Let me? Let me?! You don't get to decide anything. This is my life!" Gwen's hands were balled into fists and tears were streaming down her face. She let out a sound between a scream and a growl, turned on her heel, and stomped to her room to slam the door as hard as possible. Jumping on the bed, she attacked the pillows until they were nothing but bits of fluff. She stared at the white stuffing as it flew through the air.

This was a mistake. It was all wrong. She had been wrong to ever come here. She had been wrong to ever try. Emotions bombarded her, too many to sort out and name. Only one thought was clear.

 _I have to get out of here_.

o0o

Sam and Dean had never stayed at a motel in Sioux Falls before. They had never had the need. Sioux Falls was a second home. It was the only place, before the bunker, that they didn't have to pay for the use of a bed and indoor plumbing.

Until today.

Dean's duffle thumped onto the bed with more force then was necessary. His feet were heavy as he stomped around the room. His voice was gruff if he asked if Sam wanted a burger. He was angry with his little brother.

Sam was angry with himself. It was stupid. Stupid. Stupid and he knew it.

"And then you told her she's not allowed to hunt?" Sam didn't have to see his brother's face to know he was getting the Look. _Really? You of all people should know better_.

 _I'm not Dad._ "Why would she want to hunt? I never-"

"I remember a kid barely ten years old who couldn't wait to join me and Dad on a job." Now Dean did catch his eye, waiting until Sam turned to do so. "You always wanted to do exactly what Dad said you shouldn't. Didn't matter what it was."

"When I was eighteen I knew what I wanted. Gwen is old enough to know better."

"Yeah, but she won't until she tries it out for herself. Come on, Sam. You know that."

"I know." Sam's voice was soft. He slumped onto his bed, shoulders sagging. "What was I supposed to do? She couldn't stay in town. She wouldn't have left if I told her the truth."

Dean landed on his own bed with a sigh. "I know." After all, his big brother hadn't argued the point when he heard Sam call Gwen's friend. Whom they now owed a visit and a ride in the Impala. "Give her some time. Let her cool off. We'll check in tomorrow and see how things are. Apologize. Explain. Take her on a hunt."

Sam's head jerked up. "What?"

"She's going to go, Sam. She's going to hunt one way or the other. You want her trying it out by herself? You saw the list Jody showed us. That was point number one."

"This vamp nest was not a beginner hunt."

"No," Dean agreed. "We we'll find a nice somewhat quiet ghost and start with that. There should be something close by." He pulled out his computer. Sam continued to stare at his toes. The angry exchange replayed in his head, just like his fights with Dad so many years ago.

Could he have said something different? Could he have stopped it from coming to this?

Dean kicked his foot. "Give it time. We'll fix this."

Sam pressed his lips together, but said nothing. His phone was buzzing, and a look at the caller ID showed Jody was on the other end of the line.

"Sam." There was a hesitation in her voice. As if she didn't know how to say what had to come next. Jody had never been afraid to tell him anything before. "She's gone."

Sam felt the world stop. He was locked in this moment of pure fear as a thousand gruesome images flashed through his head. "Gone?"

The world was a blur. Motion, color, sound, they all bled together. Somehow, Dean had the phone. Then they were in the car, then in Jody's living room.

"I tried to get her to take your credit card," Alex said.

"Smart girl! We can track that." Dean sounded proud,

Alex shook her head. "She said she had cash. Then she took my phone."

"I was getting Jody's prescription filled. I was gone an hour. We needed groceries, too." Claire's face was, for once, filled with earnest regret.

Gwen's room was wrecked. Drawers spilled open, pillow torn apart. But no blood. No signs of struggle.

Dean's hand was on Sam's arm. "She did this herself. Threw a tantrum before she took off."

They were outside again, surrounded by deputies in khaki uniforms. Jody distributed a picture and gave orders. Sam didn't hear a word.

"The GPS. Dean. Gwen's shoes."

Dean's eyebrows drew together in frown that filled his entire face. "Sam, she left her old shoes behind. She went on a shopping trip. She's got new ones."

Sam ran his hands over his face and through his hair. His feet moved, pacing a circle but going nowhere. He didn't even know which direction to start. "We have to-Dean she can't-"

Sam was sitting on the ground, his brother's hand on his back. "We'll get her back, Sam. But you've got to pull it together. We've got a small army looking for her. The buses, the trains, the airport, they all know not to let her board. She'll be ok."

Sam shook his head. "This is all my fault. I did this."

Dean's eyes looked to the sky, and his answer was slow in coming. Stalling for a way to say something that was true without confirming Sam's words. "You did this to me three times, Sam. It's barely been two hours. She hitchhiked across half the country to find us. She can take care of herself."

"What if there was a vampire left? What if we missed one?"

"We didn't."

"I should know where to find her. I should have some idea where to start. You always knew where to find me." Sam shivered. "I should have spent more time with her."

"We will from now on."

Sam's phone buzzed again, the vibration a sharp jolt inside his pocket. He stared at the screen. Aggie.

"Sam. How's Gwen?"

Sam rose to his feet in one swift motion. That tone was too smug. The words too calm. Suddenly, everything was clear. "Something tells me you know the answer to that question. She can't be with you. It's too far."

"No." The smug edge dropped from Aggie's tone. "No, she's at the bus stop. She made me promise not to tell you."

"So why did you?"

"Because in Sioux Falls she was doing better after one month than she ever did when she was here." The tone was matter-of-fact, no trace of defeat or regret. "Because I care about my granddaughter, Sam Winchester, and I think you do to. So I'm giving you a chance. Go fix this."

"Yes, ma'am."

o0o

The world was back in focus now. Every second an aching eternity. For once, Dean couldn't drive fast enough. And he insisted on talking the whole way there.

"So Aggie thinks Gwen is doing better here? Huh. Well, we're doing something right."

"Jody's doing something right." Sam had done everything wrong. He had tried to be everything John Winchester wasn't, and still ended up in exactly the same place. Yelling until his child ran out the door.

Gwen was sitting outside of the bus stop, hoodie pulled up over her face, the new shoes she'd bought this weekend already scuffed from her trek across town. Her chin jerked up when she heard the Impala pull up. Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't run, didn't move, just looked back down at her toes.

A tear landed on the tip of her shoes, tracing a path through the grime down to the ground.

Sam wanted to run to her, to pull her into his arms, wrap her up in a tight hug and never let her go. But her shoulders were tense, and he didn't think a hug would be welcome. Not right now. He sat down next to her. Dean hung back, watching from a distance.

Gwen pulled an earbud out and let it dangle down her neck. Angry music spilled from the speaker. _I want to heal, I want to feel what I thought was never real. I want to let go of the pain I've felt so long. I want to heal, I want to feel, like I'm close to something real. I want to find something I've wanted all along. Somewhere I belong._

"Nana doesn't want me." The words were muttered at her toes.

"Gwen-"

"I don't want to talk to you." Her shoulders hunched and the black hood turned away from him.

"I'm sorry." Sam drew in a breath to say more, but let it out again. He didn't know what else to say. She knew _why_ he had done it. That wasn't the problem. "It was wrong and I'm sorry."

"Now you pinky-swear that you'll never ever do it again and things to back to being just like they were before?" Gwen looked up to give him the full force of her glare.

 _Yes please!_

"What do you want to happen?"

She looked away again with a shrug. "I guess I'll finish school here. Sometimes Nana has a good point." She looked up at the approaching crowd; deputies, Jody, Claire and Alex. Dean had broken a few speed limits coming here, but the rest weren't far behind.

"This wasn't Jody's idea."

"I know." Gwen lifted her duffle bag over her shoulder. "I like it here." She looked up at Sam again, and her face was calm. The fire of her anger replaced by a deadly chill. "But I'm mad at you, and I don't want to talk to you for a while." She held his gaze for a moment, then turned away. Dean stepped toward her, but she dodged to one side, and he drew his hand back.

Sam watched Jody wrap her arms around his daughter. She would be safe. She would be happy.

Without him.

It felt like someone had scooped a hole out of his chest. He had lost something important today. Something he didn't know he could ever get back.

Dean's hand landed on his shoulder. "Remember that time you went a full month without saying a word to Dad?"

Sam turned to stare at his brother. Dean continued. "You made up, eventually. It didn't matter how mad you two got, or how bad the fight got. You always figure out how to make up just you could fight it all out again."

Sam snorted. "It wasn't quite like that."

Dean shrugged. "Give it time, Sammy. Give it time."

o0o

 **Lyrics are from Footsteps by Pop Evil and Somewhere I Belong by Linkin Park**

 **Never fear, there is more to come! Gwen has some thinking to do, and Sam has learned his lesson. Will Gwen learn to hunt? How will she patch things up with Sam? We'll see in the next chapter. Just two or three chapters left in this story I think. I hope you won't be disappointed by the end I've planned.**

 **Thank you so much for reading! Please, please, please post a review if you enjoyed this story at all. Reviews are what keep me writing. Even if you don't know what to say, a simple 'good job' is always nice to receive.**


	26. Time to Heal

**This chapter takes place immediately after the episode "Red Meat" from season 11.**

 **Chapter: Time to Heal**

The road stretched out before Dean, black surface illuminated by the Impala's headlights. Black road, black night. Not even a star was visible through the thick cloud cover. Black as death, some might say.

The Allman Brother's were on the radio, crooning about the trials of life. _You ride down the same old street you've seen a thousand times. That overflows with neon lights and enormous signs. My God how you want to leave there. Well. Well. You want so bad to leave this whirlwind storm, but you can't find a place to grab on. So round and round you go again, and it just ain't easy._

Dean had seen death, had seen it twice in one day. First, in his brother's motionless form. Second, in the bright flash of light when Billie came to reap his soul.

Dean didn't want to think about death anymore. He turned the music down for a moment, just to hear the sound of his brother's breathing. It wasn't a sound he would get tired of anytime soon. They needed rest, both of them. They needed a break.

They needed to get off the road before Dean's vision blurred and he took them straight into the ditch. His phone was in his hand before he realized he'd decided on a plan.

"What's wrong?" Jody's voice was thick was sleep and concern. Her words struggled for cohesion.

"Sam and I need a place to crash tonight."

"You're ok? You're not dying?"

"Dying?" The word made Dean's stomach churn. He glanced over at his brother, slumped against the passenger window. Still breathing. "No."

"Then why are you calling me at 2 am? Find a hotel. You know you can't visit, Dean." Jody was waking up properly now, and her words turned sharp.

"It's 2 am?" Dean glanced at the clock. Huh.

"Gwen doesn't want you-"

"Gwen will-"

"I don't want her taking off again, Dean. She'll decide when she's ready to see you two again." Jody's tone was firm, and Dean felt his affection for her like a warm glow in his chest. She was defending his niece as if Gwen were her own, and Dean loved her for it even if it did make things between them a little tense.

But there was one person in this whole world who was more important than Gwen, and always would be. Right now, he had a bullet hole in his gut and Dean didn't care that the prompt care doctor said he should be fine. Gut wounds took weeks to heal, and Sam needed more care than the small out-patient facility had been able to provide.

Hospitals also reported bullet wounds to the police, and Dean had already been tazed twice by that over-zealous Sheriff's deputy. He didn't trust the law enforcement, he didn't want to leave his brother is the care of anyone else in that town, and he wanted to get away from the memory of thinking he'd lost Sam again as soon as possible. So when Sam walked out of the prompt-care on his own two feet, Dean didn't argue.

But he knew that wasn't going to be the end of it. The adrenaline that had given Sam the energy to make it out of the forest was long gone, and his brother was going to be hurting. Dean didn't want to try to drag him down the steps of the bunker. Dean didn't want to navigate that long walk himself. His head was foggy and his stomach still sour from the pills he'd swallowed in his desperate attempt to get to his brother.

The brother he had thought to be dead.

"We need help, Jody." Dean didn't care that his voice trembled. "I'll put Gwen up at a hotel, but-Sam's hurt. I'm hurting too." Had he really said that last out loud?

"What happened?" Jody's tone changed instantly, the full force of her motherly concern now turned on Dean.

"Sam got shot. In the stomach. They did a patch job, but he needs to be flat on his back for the next week. And I need to know they won't ask questions at the hospital if something goes wrong."

"Any gunshot wounds at Sioux Falls General will be reported to me," Jody said. "Shot in the stomach? He should be in the hospital now-"

"Long story. But we need a safe place to be, and we need someone we can trust to help us." Dean scrubbed a hand over his eyes. The road in front of him was growing fuzzy. He needed rest, too. But he only wanted to move Sam once, and that meant making it to Sioux Falls tonight.

"How far out are you?"

"About ten minutes."

Jody's aggravated huff reminded Dean of Bobby. "You could have called a little earlier."

 _I wasn't sure we'd make it this far._ "Yeah, lost track of time."

"I don't have a spare bed anymore. One of you will have to be on the couch."

Which meant Jody herself was volunteering for the floor. Dean quietly cleared his throat. He knew his voice had been a bit rough since swallowing those pills, but he didn't think he sounded that bad.

"That'll be fine, Jody. Thanks." Dean's hand relaxed on the steering wheel. He looked sideways at his brother again. Sam hadn't heard a word, sound asleep mostly thanks to a heavy dose of pain pills.

Sam hadn't tried to call since Gwen sent them away. He walked around in a funk for a month, but claimed everything was fine. It was better this way. Gwen wouldn't hunt now, so she would be safe. He wouldn't thank Dean for throwing him and Gwen together again.

Today, Dean didn't care. Today, Sam didn't get a vote. Today, they needed to be near family.

o0o

The world was hazy. Sam floated on a cloud of codeine, insulating him from the waking world. His eyes were open, but he didn't feel awake yet. He was content to drift, warm and comfortable under his purple blanket.

Sam blinked. Purple? He had no objection to the color, but was pretty sure Dean would not have picked it out. He lifted his eyes to find warm beige walls, a wooden dresser, and a bedside lamp decorated with flowers. So. Dean must have stopped at a motel.

His brother was nowhere in sight, but the smell of sausage and the fizzle of fat in a hot pan drifted through the door.

That was odd. The kitchen wasn't usually next to the guest rooms in a motel.

Dean wouldn't leave the door of a motel room ajar, either.

A giggle punched through the air, and Sam winced at the shrill sound. Codeine could only do so much. He shifted, and felt a sharp stab of pain from his belly. It wasn't a surprise. He had been shot, after all. Shot and left for dead in a forest filled with werewolves.

A week flat on his back in bed, and a couple more after that of light duty. That's what the doctor had said, before ushering him out the door. He had just gotten stitches and needed three pints of blood, but he didn't need to spend the night. No. He could leave right away, thank you.

Dean hadn't looked too pleased, but Sam had walked to the car on his own two feet and insisted he was fine. If he hadn't, Dean would have gone back inside and made them give Sam a bed. But Sam didn't want to stay in that place. The entire staff was too spooked, and it was time for the Winchesters to be gone. Whether it was good for Sam's recovery or not.

Sam had half-hoped that Dean would be able to make it back to the bunker before they needed a stop. He knew that once he got out of the car and into a bed, he wasn't getting up again for a while. He had recovered in motel rooms before, but there was something nice about being home.

Of course they were too far away from Lebanon for that to happen. Sam knew this. His brother could drive fourteen hours straight, but even Dean Winchester needed a break and a nap at some point.

So Dean had pulled over, and gotten Sam out of the car and into a bed without Sam realizing that it happened.

Maybe he should cut back on the codeine dose.

Which left Sam with a puzzle to solve, because this wasn't home and it wasn't a motel. So where was he? It looked familiar, but Sam couldn't figure out why.

Dishes clinked, and the fizzle of cooking sausage stopped. High-pitched voices mingled, their words garbled as everyone talked at once over the breakfast preparations. He was someplace with a kitchen, good food, and girls.

The realization that breakfast was cooked and ready to serve jumped from his head to his stomach, which was _not_ injured and was empty. It didn't care where Sam was, it just wanted the hands belonging to one of those voices to bring him food and bring it now.

A deep voice rose up against a new round of feminine giggles. Dean. He was just on the other side of the door, enjoying breakfast.

Sam reached toward the bedside table and found his phone sitting there. Good. He called up his texting app and put in his brother's name.

But before he could send a text to his brother who was ten feet away, he heard another voice through the door. It rose up louder than the others, nearly a shout.

"What are you doing here?"

 _Gwen?_ Sam looked around the room again. There in the closet he saw a set of hangars full of khaki Sheriff's uniforms. Jody had given up her bed.

And Gwen hadn't been warned.

Sam took a moment to catch his breath. He hadn't heard her voice in two months. He had convinced himself he didn't miss it.

"Gwen." Dean's voice was sharp, carrying a hint of a warning. "Keep your voice down please."

"What are you doing here?" Gwen's volume rose as she bit out each word. "I said I didn't want to see you."

"And I said keep your voice down." Dean's volume dropped, but his tone still held a warning edge. "We are here because we had a bad hunt. We are here because _my brother_ is hurt. We're not going to make you talk about your feelings, and we aren't trying to interfere with your life. We need a safe place to rest, and Jody agreed to help. Sam is asleep, and I don't want him waking up until he's good and ready. So keep your tone down, eat your breakfast, and go to school. If you don't want to see Sam, don't go into the bedroom. It's that simple."

Sam's fingers flew across the keyboard on his phone. Dean, it's ok. I'm awake. Let her be.

"What's wrong with Dad?" Gwen's voice was nearly a whisper now.

"Does it matter? Go to school." Dean's heavy footfalls moved across the room, and Sam could smell the sausage before his brother opened the door. For a moment, Sam caught a glimpse of Gwen's wide eyes before Dean shut the door firmly in her face.

"You didn't need to do that." Sam winced as he slowly shifted to a sitting position. He held a pillow to his side as he moved. He tried to see what was on the plate in Dean's hand, and his stomach growled.

"She's not going to cause you any trouble, Sam." Dean set the plate aside and lifted Sam's shirt to take a look at the wound site.

"Hey!" Sam gestured to his breakfast plate. Dean just glared and continued his inspection.

"There's a lot of bruising here." Bruising meant internal bleeding.

"It went a long time before I got things stitched up," Sam said. "That will cause bruising. The doctors knew what they were doing. It'll be fine."

"Yeah, well. I'm getting you more of these." Dean handed over the bottle of painkillers. "No skimping."

Finally, he held the plate within Sam's reach. Sam took his plate, but didn't eat. He stared at the mess of sausage and pancakes. "Dean, we shouldn't be here. Gwen-"

"Look over there." Dean pointed to the small door next to Jody's closet. "The toilet is three steps away from the bed. At the bunker, you'd have to walk down a hall and up half a flight of stairs." Dean pointed to the bedroom door. "There are three people out there who can help cook, bring you food, and call 9-1-1 if there's an emergency. I've got broken ribs and a concussion. We need the help, man. We're staying until those bruises are gone."

Sam nodded and speared a sausage with his fork, but paused again. "How did she look?" No need to ask which _she_ he was referring to.

"She's doing fine, Sam. Eat your breakfast."

o0o

The door loomed at the other end of the hallway, never fully opened. Everyone made sure to keep it at least halfway closed when they came and went.

And they came and went a lot. Jody carried in full plates and left with empty ones. Alex brought a stack of books from the library. Even Claire spent time in there, usually brining a DVD as an offering.

Gwen could hear him down the hallway, sometimes. Voices always carried in small houses. She could hear the soft tone of his voice, occasionally a laugh that usually ended in a hiss and the rattle of pills inside of a plastic jar as Uncle Dean doled out the painkillers.

Because Dad was hurt.

No one had told Gwen how. No one had told her why. When Gwen was in the room they all pretended they didn't have a houseguest.

 _You don't have to see him if you don't want to_.

At first, Gwen hadn't thought that would be possible. If they were in the same home, they would have to see each other. But Uncle Dean was true to his word, and everyone seemed to be in on the conspiracy. Gwen's life moved on seamlessly, and no one ever mentioned the man who had taken over Jody's bedroom.

Gwen could see his door from her room. She could sit on her bed and watch the traffic go in and out. Alex with a new library book. Dean with fresh bandages. Jody, fetching laundry. Every once in a while one of them would cast her a sideways glance, as if to say, _are you coming_? But they never said anything.

After all, Gwen knew exactly where her father was. There was nothing stopping her walking in that door.

 _I don't want to talk to him_.

She had never meant forever. Just for now. Just for a little while. So she could be mad and sort things out. She needed to think. She needed to wait.

 _I need more time. Just a few more months and we'll be fine._

How did the radio always know what she was thinking? Gwen pulled up her music streaming program, ready to skip the song. _So what what's on your mind. 'Cause I can't figure out just what's inside._

Gwen pushed her laptop away, but didn't stop the music playing. She could never stop the music.

She could talk to her dad, or she could keep pretending that he wasn't there.

 _Do I want a Dad_?

She had always assumed the answer was yes. Until he had lied to her. Until she realized how dangerous his life was.

 _I hoped that you could understand that this is not what I had planned. Please don't worry now. It will turn around._

"I get it!" Gwen reached up and snapped the laptop closed, cutting off the chorus. She went to the door and peered out into the hallway. It was empty. Gwen was sure that a responsible adult wasn't too far off. Uncle Dean had been hovering since they arrived, and only agreed to get out of the house and get fresh air when Jody promised someone would be 'on call' for Sam if he did. Right now, Uncle Dean was out shopping and Alex had her homework spread out on the couch.

Gwen paused in the corridor. If she opened the door, what would she find?

A memory filled her vision: Mom's face as pale as the sheets she rested on, thin hair spread around her like a halo, face sunken and eyes filmed over. The last days had been hard, too hard. Gwen didn't want to see something like that again.

No. Dad was getting better. Everyone agreed on that.

Gwen tapped on the door and pushed her head in to see Dad sitting up by the window. He had a pillow clutched to his side and was nose-deep in a book, but he looked up with eyes that grew wide at the sight of her. The book was set aside instantly.

"Gwen." She wasn't sure if the word was a question or a greeting.

"Hi Dad." Gwen paused on the threshold. "I just-I just wanted to see if you're ok." He looked paler than usual, and Gwen's stomach clenched. _This isn't like Mom_.

"I'm fine."

"What happened?"

"I got shot." There was no hesitation in his words, but his forehead crinkled as he watched her reaction.

"Shot?"

Dad nodded and patted the pillow held to his belly. "Yep. Shot in the gut. I got lucky; they didn't hit any organs. I'll be up and moving around in a few days."

Gwen moved closer. "You're sweating."

Dad shrugged. "Just a bit of a fever. I had to wait a long time before I got my wound cleaned out. The doctor came while you were at school and gave me some antibiotics."

"Oh." The sound was small even in her own ears, and felt like it came from far, far away. A doctor making home visits.

They didn't do that unless you were dying.

They hadn't done that until Mom was dying, anyway.

Gwen spun around, yanked the door open, and dashed back into her own room. She flung the door shut with a bang and crashed onto her bed, gathering up as many pillows as she could hold. She hugged them tight to her chest and drew in a long, gasping breath.

"Gwen?" Dad pushed the door open and leaned against the frame. "Gwen, what's wrong?"

Gwen could feel the tears spilling down her face. Dad shuffled across the room and landed on the foot of her bed. "Gwen?"

She looked up at the calendar on the wall. The picture was of a yellow sun, smiling underneath cool sunglasses and drinking a martini. But the happy face couldn't do anything to alter the black letters underneath. March. It was too much. Too much all at once.

"March was when the doctors started coming to see Mom. March was when they put her on hospice last year." Gwen reached for a Kleenex and blew her nose. "I didn't know what hospice meant. I thought it was a good thing. There were more nurses, more help. I thought that was a good sign. Nobody told me. I had to look it up myself."

"What does hospice mean?" Dad asked, his voice soft.

"It means you're dying and they don't try to keep you alive anymore. It means they give up, and they just want to help you be comfortable until you're gone." Gwen fiddled with the Kleenex box. "It only took three months. It hasn't even been a whole year yet."

"Gwen, the doctor came as a favor to Jody. I'm getting better. I'll be fine."

"But you could be dead! You almost died and I cant-" Gwen balled up the Kleenex and threw it across the room. "You lied to me. When Mom was dying, that was the first time people started lying to me."

"Lied to you?" He paused, confused. "Back in February?"

Gwen nodded. "I need to know you won't lie to me again. Even if something bad is happening, I want to know. I need to know."

Dad nodded slowly. "Ok. But Gwen-I need to know you won't do something dangerous. When I met you, you had run away from your grandmother and crawled into a stranger's trunk. When I heard you want to hunt, and then there was a hunt here in town-It scared me. I was worried you would try to do something you weren't ready for yet."

"I can learn about hunting if I want to."

"Yes." He caught her eyes with his and held her gaze. "Yes you can. That's your decision. But you need to do it safely, Gwen. If I tell you something bad is happening, I need to know you'll obey me if I tell you to do something important."

"I have to follow orders?"

He grimaced. "You know, that was the thing I hated most about my dad. He was always giving orders. But sometimes, in the middle of a fight, when something bad is happening, there isn't time to explain. Sometimes, you just need to do what you're told. I didn't think you would like that much, so I decided not to tell you at all."

Gwen narrowed her eyes, but she could feel the tears drying up. "I never do what I'm told."

A smile tugged at Dad's mouth. "Me neither." His eyes flicked around the room, and landed on the large envelope sitting on her desk. It was fat, full of paperwork that Gwen hadn't filled out yet. But the label was all Dad needed to see. Bowling Green University. He caught the edge of the envelope with one finger and dragged it forward. His smile grew wider.

"You got the big one."

Gwen couldn't help but reflect his grin. "Yeah."

"That means you got in."

She nodded.

Dad took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. "You said you wanted to hunt. You aren't-are you-are you thinking about hunting instead of going to college?" His words were careful, as if he were afraid of stepping on a land mine.

"I want to spend more time with you, Dad. I don't want you to be afraid to visit. But I still want to go to college."

Dad nodded and pressed the pillow closer to his side as he let out a small breath of relief. "Good. That's-that's good."

"But I'm learning about what you do. I've got the whole summer after graduation. Jody promised she would take me with her and-"

"Do you want to come with me?"

His mouth snapped shut, as if the words had been an accident. But they had been said, and he couldn't take them back.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"An easy hunt. Something to show you what we do. Something to help teach you what you need to know to be safe in an emergency. That's all. Sometimes Dean and I will have to leave you here-"

"That's ok!"

Dad nodded. "Ok. This summer. Now." He tapped the envelope. "Tell me about Bowling Green."

Half and hour later Gwen was hard at work on her laptop again, an essay for history that was due next week. Dad lay beside her, not even snoring as he slept. Gwen wasn't offended that he hadn't manage to stay awake while she talked about school. It had only taken ten minutes for him to wilt slowly into her pillows and then pass out. She just covered him with a blanket, tucked herself up against his shoulder, and continued with her work.

"Sammy!" Gwen hadn't heard the door open, but she heard Dean's bellow. It echoed through the house, making the walls rattle. "Where's Sam? He's not in his bed. Sammy!"

Beside her, Dad stirred. Gwen scrambled off the bed and went to find Uncle Dean before he could tear the house down. "He's fine!" Gwen took a step back when Dean whipped around to give her the full force of his glare.

"What?"

"Keep your voice down!" Gwen did her best impression of the tone Uncle Dean had used their first morning here. "Dad's asleep and I don't want you to wake him up."

"He's not in his bed."

"No, he's in mine. We had a talk-"

"You had a talk? I thought you didn't-"

"We had a talk and we're fine now. But Dad was a bit tired. Leave him be until he wakes up." She crossed her arms and planted herself between Uncle Dean and the bedroom door, trying to make her face as stern as possible.

Uncle Dean brushed past her with a growl, but cracked the bedroom door open very quietly. His entire body relaxed when he saw his brother asleep on the bed. He closed the door and turned back to Gwen. "So, we're good?"

Gwen nodded. "Yeah."

Uncle Dean smiled. "Good." And he wrapped her up in a bear hug that nearly cracked her ribs.

o0o

 **Lyrics are from Just Ain't Easy by the Allman Brothers and More Time by Needtobreathe**

 **Thanks for reading. Please review!**


	27. Final Decisions

**SPOILER WARNING: This chapter takes place during the finale for Season 11. BUT** **this chapter will NOT stick to canon. I hope you enjoy the changes I made!**

 **This is not the last chapter of this story, but it is the second to last. We only have a brief tag to end it all. Thank you so much for reading! Special thanks to all my reviewers, including Keep Truck, Doclover, sjwmaw, BonanzaRocks, Beckini, sammygirl312, DemonaEvernight, Winchester'sgirl00, and Michele Chadwick. There is nothing better than a review!**

 **Final Decisions**

 _Nobody knows how to say good-bye. It seems so easy till you try. Then the moment's passed you by._

Dean had died before, but he'd never been able to say good-bye before. This time, he was going to do it right. He had said good-bye to his best friend. He had visited his mother's grave. He had hugged his brother for the last time. Dean could feel the energy inside him, the bomb made out of souls. It was ready to do its work, to destroy the Darkness and save the world.

Dean ran his thumb over the phone in his hand. There was one good-bye he had not said yet. And somehow, a song from the play list she had sent him was stuck in his head.

 _Nobody knows how to say good-bye._

"Uncle Dean!" Gwen's voice was warm, welcoming, happy. She had no idea that anything was wrong. If he kept quiet, she wouldn't ever know.

But they had made a promise. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

 _Through the darkness to the dawn, and when I looked back you were gone. Heard your voice leading me on. Through the darkness to the dawn._

"Hi Gwen."

There was death in his voice, and Gwen knew it instantly. "What's wrong?"

"I-uh-I'm not going to make it your graduation party." She was set to be done with high school in two weeks, and wanted to go to college. Had earned a full ride to a good school. Just like someone else Dean knew.

"Why?" There wasn't any anger in her tone, just worry.

"I'm going to be dead." Dean rubbed at the living bomb in his chest. There was a sound of protest from Gwen, but Dean spoke over her. "This is the way it has to be. We keep the world safe. Your dad will be fine, but he's going to need you."

"But-what about you?" So much for trying to distract her. "Uncle Dean, you can't know for sure you're-"

"It's a suicide mission, Gwen. I'm taking a bomb to the bad guys, and I don't have a remote detonator. Either I take them out or-" Or Gwen and everyone else in the Mills house was gone forever.

 _Love is deep as the road is long, and moves my feet to carry on_.

"I'm not coming back. That's the plan, and that's the way it has to be."

"No! No it doesn't! How can you know that?"

"We have the most powerful beings in creation in on this, Gwen. There isn't another way." If there was, he would take it. But this was not like when he had sold his soul. He didn't want to die, but he knew he wasn't going to hell. Hopefully, death would simply be the end, nothing, a long sleep. And his family was bigger now. No one would be left alone by his passing. "I need you to promise me you'll take care of Sam, ok? He never does well when he's on his own. He'll need you."

"Uncle Dean, you can't-"

"I need to know you'll be there for Sam." Having someone to take care of was what had gotten Dean through the worst moments of his life. It was all he could give her.

Gwen's tone changed. Her trembling voice steadied. Her answer was firm and determined. "I can do that."

"Good." She would be ok. "And Gwen," Dean took a deep breath. How to say everything he felt? He'd never been good that. "I'm glad you found us."

There was a sniffle on the other end of the line. She had lost her mom a year ago. The last thing she needed was another death in the family. She'd made that much clear. But there was no doubt in her voice when she replied, "Me too."

 _Nobody knows how the story ends. Live the day doing what you can. This is only where is began. Nobody knows how the story ends._

o0o

Wind clawed at Gwen's clothes. Sweat dripped into her eyes under her heavy helmet. Dust from the road made her mouth dry. Her back ached and her hands were sore from keeping a tight grip on the handles of her motorcycle. The one Uncle Dean had given her. He claimed it belonged to Dorothy. Yeah, the one that went to Oz.

 _I'm going to die_. That's what Uncle Dean had said.

A rest stop flicked past, a rare sight in the flat, empty landscape that stretched between Sioux Falls and Lebanon. Gwen needed a rest. She hadn't stopped except to refill the gas tank. Night fell, the moon rose and arced across the sky, but still Gwen did not stop.

 _Take care of your dad_.

Gwen didn't know a lot about Uncle Dean, but one thing was clear. He took care of his little brother. It was the most important thing.

But that wasn't why Gwen was on the road, tearing through the miles that separated them. She loved Uncle Dean. She didn't want him to be gone. But she would deal with that later.

Gwen was riding to her father. She knew what it felt like to lose the person who always took care of you. She knew what it felt like to be left behind. To be alone.

 _If you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing's changed at all? If you close your eyes, does it almost feel like we've been here before?_

It wasn't the way this relationship was supposed to work. She needed Dad. Dad took care of her. Children weren't supposed to care for and protect their parents.

But Gwen knew that 'supposed to' and reality didn't always match up.

 _Dad needs me_.

Gwen turned off the main road onto the drive that led to the bunker. A flash of light bounced out of the trees, reflected off of the headlight from her bike. Gwen slowed enough to see a shiny car with rental stickers in the window. It was parked out of the way, behind a stand of trees. Hiding.

Odd.

Gwen patted her back to check that her gun was tucked safely in her belt and continued cautiously down the road.

The Impala was parked out front. Dad had driven. Gwen could tell immediately. The tires were half-off the gravel and the angle was wrong. Gwen saw a small footprint next to the tread of large boots that always littered the front of the bunker.

Odd again.

Gwen slipped into the garage door as quietly as possible. Something bad had happened. Something bad enough to kill Uncle Dean. What if his suicide mission hadn't worked? What if Dad needed more help than Uncle Dean knew?

Neither of them would want her here in that case. They would want her far away. Safe.

She had promised to do as she was told, if it came down to it. But no one was here to give orders. Uncle Dean was gone, and Gwen wasn't going to lose her father, too.

The garage was dark, but there were voices down the hallway. One familiar, the other shrill, arrogant, British.

"Where's Dean?" The British voice said.

"Dead. Listen, I don't know who the hell you are or what the hell you want-"

"Stop." The command was shrill, nervous.

"Put the gun down." That was Dad.

Gun? _Not good._ Gwen moved before the thought was fully formed. It was like being on the soccer field, where there was not thought, only action and reaction. Her hands moved without thinking. Her gun was in her hand.

Gwen rounded the corner and saw them; a petite woman with a gun pointed at Sam. Or was it a woman? The only things Dad and Uncle Dean killed were monsters, and most monsters look a lot like people. This had to be a monster. A short, well-dressed, British monster.

Dad stepped forward.

"I said stop!" The monster's voice was shrill.

"You and I both know you won't pull that trigger." Dad's voice was low, calm. So certain.

 _Bang!_

The shot echoed through the bunker. The spent bullet casing clattered on the floor. The smell of gun smoke burned in Gwen's nose. She drew in a sharp gasp as Dad's face went rigid and he staggered. He let out a low groan as he hit the floor.

"Dad!"

Gwen couldn't see the blood. She couldn't see where the shot had hit. She just saw her father white with pain. The woman-monster spun at the sound of Gwen's voice.

 _Bang_!

All it took was one squeeze and a steady hand. Gwen had done this with a target a thousand times. Except this time, her target was right between the lapels of a fancy suit-jacket, rather than the black dot on a white piece of paper.

It didn't matter. Gwen had perfect aim. The woman-monster dropped to the floor, arms splayed, gun clattering on the cement. Gwen had seen enough movies to know to kick the gun away, but it didn't matter. The body didn't even twitch. It just stared up with pale eyes. Gwen kicked at a leg, but there was no response.

"Gwen?" Dad was staring at her. He had one hand pressed against his leg, but blood still leaked through his fingers. "What are you doing here?"

"I didn't want you to be alone." Gwen scurried to her father's side, her hands hovering over his wound. "Where's Castiel? Shouldn't he be with you?"

"He was. She used a spell that blasted him away. He'll be back, but it will take a little while."

"Oh." Gwen felt her anger vanish, but in its place was just the sharp sting of loss. Uncle Dean wasn't here. His absence filled the room. Gwen focused on the blood in front of her. "You need a doctor."

Dad shook his head. "No, that's not a good idea. It didn't hit an artery or a bone. I can handle it. Do you remember where the first aid kit is?"

Gwen nodded, but didn't move. She looked at her father. "Is Uncle Dean really dead?"

In his pocket, Dad's phone vibrated. He ducked his eyes to check his screen, as if he didn't want to answer Gwen's question. As if he couldn't bear to say it out loud again. His mouth fell open, then closed. His eyebrows dropped in a scowl, then he just shook his head. "No. Apparently not."

o0o

Gwen was a terror in the kitchen, as bad as her grandfather Toni. It was a simple breakfast: pancakes, sausage, eggs, hash browns. But Gwen had still turned it into a mess. Flour covered every flat surface, bits of batter dotted the stovetop, and sausage grease speckled the table. Despite that, it all smelled good, making Sam hungry for the first time in days.

Sam watched the process from the kitchen table, his leg propped up on a chair beside him. He kept waiting for Gwen to show-something. To show some sign of processing everything. She had lost her uncle, she had killed a woman, she had given her father stitches. Sam had tried to convince her that he could do it himself, but Gwen insisted on helping. Her hands held steady through the entire process.

It wasn't until the last stitch was in and the bandage covered the hole in Sam's flesh that Gwen turned green and started to shake. So Sam had suggested breakfast and Gwen jumped on the project. She stepped over the dead body, careful not look at the British woman's corpse, and proceeded to turn the kitchen into a disaster zone.

Sam waited for Gwen to say something, to do something to show how she was feeling. Tears, yelling, he would even take hysterical laughter at this point. But she simply worked to scramble eggs and shred potatoes, her face an emotionless mask.

"Gwen, do you want to talk about what happened?"

Gwen's eyes flicked up from her frying pan and found the door to the library, where the dead body lay, before dropping back down to her cooking. She gave a small shake of her head.

"Ok." Sam adjusted the salt shaker on the table, feeling useless. He couldn't even take that body out of the bunker without help, and he certainly wasn't going to ask Gwen to build a funeral pyre by herself. Dean would take care of it when he got back.

Dean was coming, with Mary.

Dean was alive.

So was Mom.

There was still a dead body on the floor.

And Gwen had come to Sam's rescue.

It was a strange day, and that was saying something for a Winchester. Sam was used to it. Gwen was not. Sam took in a breath, not sure what to say next.

The familiar creak of the door opening echoed through the bunker, followed by the sound of footsteps and a familiar voice. "Sammy! We're home!"

 _Dean_. Sam braced his hands on the table, ready to push himself to his feet, but Gwen put a hand on his chest to stop him. She yelled back, "We're in the kitchen! Breakfast is ready!"

"A little help here!" Dean's voice was stressed, as if he were carrying a heavy load.

"Not happening!" Gwen called back. She clanged her spatula against the skillet. "Breakfast!"

There was a thump, the sound of flesh hitting concrete. Then Dean stomped into the kitchen, growling, "I nearly die and-"

Gwen tackled him with a hug that knocked the rest of the words out of his lungs. Dean wrapped his arms around her and placed a kiss on the top of her head.

"It's good to see you too, kid."

A woman emerged from behind Dean. Now Sam did get to his feet, ignoring the pain. This was more important. "Mom."

"Sam." Her voice was small, she felt so small in his arms. But she was here, real flesh and blood. Sam felt stinging in his eyes and brushed away a tear. His leg wobbled, a sharp pain shooting through his thigh. Dean stepped sideways to place a hand on his elbow and guided him back to his chair.

"What's that?" Dean nodded a the bandage on Sam's leg.

Sam tapped at a blood smear on Dean's shoulder. "What's that?" It wasn't his brother's blood, Sam was pretty sure.

"There was a woman waiting for us outside." Mary looked as if she had bit into something sour.

Dean grimaced. "She tried to tie us up and lock us in the trunk of her SUV. Wouldn't take no for an answer." He set a pair of brass knuckles on the table, each etched with Enochian runes, and rubbed at a red spot on his face. "She had these. I left her body in the garage. What happened to you?"

"We'll have two bodies to burn. There was a woman waiting inside when I got home. Shot me in the leg."

"Cass let you get shot?" Dean straightened, head snapping around to search the room. "Where is Cass?"

"She blasted him away."

"Blasted him away?" Mary asked.

"She used a funny symbol on the wall," Gwen said. "Some kind of spell."

"She was ready for me, Dean. She got inside our home, and I don't think she had to break in. She said she was with the Men of Letter's London chapter house."

"Men of Letters?" Mary asked.

Sam had known his mother was a hunter for years now. It was surprising to realize how little she knew. It was surprising to think how little they had all known just ten years ago. "The Men of Letters are people who study the supernatural."

"Sounds like we need to change the locks," Dean said. His nose twitched and he looked around the kitchen. "I think I was promised breakfast." He turned expectantly to Gwen.

But Gwen had frozen. Her face was turning green again, and she put down the spatula before it dropped out of her shaking hands. "Men of Letters? People? I thought it was a monster. That person I killed-that-was that-was she human?"

Ah. There it was. Gwen hadn't reacted because she hadn't thought she killed a human. Sam started to rise, thought better of it, and beckoned her closer. She stepped toward him, and he took hold of her hand.

"Gwen, you didn't know what was happening. You saw her shoot me. Even in a court of law, you wouldn't be in trouble." Sam wasn't actually sure about that, but it was what she needed to hear.

"I killed a person." Gwen's voice was a whisper. Her hands were shaking again. "I didn't want to kill a person. I just-"

"I know. You didn't do anything wrong, Gwen. Remember that. You didn't do anything wrong." Sam remembered the first time Dean had killed a person. A person possessed by a demon, but still a person. Even with all of his years of hunting experience, he had been shaken. Sam couldn't imagine how Gwen felt.

"We've got a pile of food here, and I'm guess you two have been up all night. Let's eat, then sleep, and then we'll deal with this." Dean was already loading up a plate, as if food could fix everything. He knew better, of course. Food out fix nothing. But it wouldn't hurt, and there was nothing else they could do. They had all been up all night. They all needed a rest.

Maybe things would look different in the morning.

Gwen swallowed hard, but nodded. She dutifully picked at the plate of pancakes Dean set in front of her. But she didn't eat much. Her eyes kept drifting toward the door that led to the library.

Sam didn't know what was going to happen next. They had planned to take Gwen on a few easy hunts this summer. Teach her the trade. But Sam had an uneasy feeling that those plans were about to change.

o0o

A good night's sleep was supposed to help. It was supposed to make things feel better, to make the sting of events a little less painful, a little more distant. In this case, Gwen had a good day's sleep. She was out for a solid ten hours, but it didn't help. She woke with the same black feeling inside. The events of yesterday remained etched in her mind.

Castiel had come home while she slept, and Dad was walking around as if nothing had happened. But the body was still there, cold, dead eyes staring up at the ceiling. The woman Gwen had killed and laid out next to the woman Uncle Dean had killed-had killed as if it were nothing, as if he didn't mind at all.

The woman had attacked him, Gwen believed that much. The first woman had shot her father. Gwen remembered that clearly, even if Dad didn't even have a scar today.

That didn't make what she had done ok. The sight of the dead body made Gwen want to scrub her hands, even though she had just showered.

 _There's a reckonin' a coming, and it burns beyond the grave, lead inside my belly 'cause my soul has lost its way_. _I've got blood on my name_.

The world should feel different, shouldn't it? This was the sort of thing that changed a person forever. But Sam, Dean, and Castiel worked to search the bodies as if it were something they did all the time. As if nothing unusual had happened.

The British woman's dead eyes seemed to stare right through her, and Gwen couldn't help but wonder who she was. Did she have a family? Was someone waiting for her to come home?

 _When the fires, when the fires are consuming you, and your sacred stars won't be guiding you. I've got blood on my name_.

She could have killed Dad.

It didn't matter if the shot had been necessary. It didn't matter if Gwen had maybe saved Dad's life. She had killed a person, a human.

Would she do it again?

Dad and Cas picked up one body while Uncle Dean draped the other over his shoulders. They hauled the corpses out of the bunker. To burn them, they said.

The only time Gwen had built a fire, it was to roast marshmallows.

Mary was the only one who looked right. Her face was pale, her eyes staring at something far away. While the men cleaned up, she sat to one side as if she wasn't sure where she belonged. Mary had died over thirty years ago, but here she was. _My grandmother is younger than my mom_.

More family that Gwen had never expected.

"Dean says you didn't grow up with this." Mary turned to Gwen, searching her face as if looking for a hint of recognition. A hint that they were related even though they had never met before. "But you want to learn."

Gwen nodded. "Yeah. I wanted to learn so I could spend more time with Dad." It had seemed so important at the time. Killing monsters didn't seem like a bad thing.

Killing people hadn't been part of the plan.

"Don't." Mary's voice was firm.

"Aren't people who have died supposed to say they would give anything for more time with their loved ones?" Gwen would give anything for more time with her mom.

"Hunting changes you. You have to see the world differently when you live this life." Mary looked down at the old journal she held in her hands, the one that had belonged to Gwen's grandfather. "You become a different person."

Gwen didn't argue. She could feel it already. Her hand still tingled, remembering the kick of her gun against her palm. She was beginning to think the feeling would never go away.

"You seem like a nice girl. Dean said that you want to go to college and you like music." Mary closed her eyes and looked away. "I grew up in this, and when I tried to get out- It turns out that didn't work so well. It's not about who you spend time with. It's about who you want to be."

A murderer. The word forced itself forward, and Gwen couldn't deny it. It was what she had done.

 _Is that what I am_? Gwen placed her head in her hands and closed her eyes. No. Not a murderer. Dad was in danger. The woman shot Dad first.

She shot him in the leg.

 _Could I have shot her in the leg_?

 _No_. Gwen could run around that loop a thousand times and never be satisfied with the answer. What had happened was done.

The question was, how did she want to move forward?

 _I want my dad_. That had been the thought that drove her away from home, that led her to clamber into the trunk of a stranger's car. But was that really what she wanted? Even then, she wanted more than just her father.

 _I want to feel better_. That was truer. It had hurt too much to stay where she was.

 _I want a good life_. It was all her mother had ever wanted, and Gina had made it happen for herself. Could Gwen do the same? A year ago, she couldn't imagine a good life without her mother. She had tried to find someone to fill that gap. She had found someone, more than one. She had fought to find them, to stay with them, to keep them.

 _This isn't good for me_. Gwen folded her hands together, but she didn't need to. They had finally stopped shaking. Because she knew. She knew what she wanted, she knew what she needed, and she knew what she wouldn't, couldn't do again.

Gwen found Dad, Cas, and Uncle Dean not far from the bunker. A pile of wood burned in front of them. Two bodies wrapped in white shrouds slowly crumbled to ash at the center of the flames.

"Gwen. Are you ok?" Dad had asked at least five times today.

Gwen didn't answer. She didn't know the answer.

"This would have ended with her dead one way or the other," Uncle Dean said. Cass raised an eyebrow, but didn't deny it. "We should be safe here. We changed the locks and re-did all the warding. I bet Bobby knew a few tricks the Men of Letters have yet to crack."

Gwen remained silent, staring at the flames.

"We've got a nice hunt picked out for you." Uncle Dean kept chattering. "We made a promise for this summer, and we're going to keep it. You are going on a hunt. Something easy. There's an old cemetery-"

"I don't want to hunt." She had fought so hard for the chance, but Gwen knew it was right as soon as the words left her mouth. She turned away from the fire to look first and her uncle, then at her father. "I love you. I don't want to lose you. But I can't do this. I did something-something I think I'm always going to regret. I don't want that to happen again."

"Ok." Dad's answer was swift, gentle, with a hint of relief. "No hunting."

"I guess I better get back to Jody's." The place her father had picked, to keep her safe and keep her free. Free of all of this. Free from the fear and the guilt gnawing at her gut.

Why hadn't she listened?

"Gwen." Dad's voice caught her as she stepped away. She looked up into his eyes. They were bright, full of tears, and she felt her own spill down across her cheeks. "Hey. Hey. It's ok. You'll be ok."

"I don't feel ok." Gwen buried her face in his flannel shirt. "I feel-" There wasn't a word for the nasty emotion twisting through her. Despair coupled with relief. Guilt paired with the knowledge that she would take that shot again.

 _Give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light. Because oh, it gave me such a fright. I will hold on with all of my might. Just promise me we'll be alright_.

"You'll be alright. I know it feels terrible now, but you'll be alright." He sounded so sure. And he was right. She would be alright, in time.

"I don't want to get used to this. How do you-"

"Anything can seem normal if you're around it long enough," Dad said.

"That's the problem. I don't want this to be my normal." It was that simple.

"I don't want that either." It was what he had been saying from the start. "If you want, Dean and I will leave and you'll never see us again."

Gwen tightened her grip on his torso. She wanted her family, and she wanted a normal life. But she couldn't have both. That was what they had said.

Dad was still talking. "I've been trying to keep you away from this, and you walked into the middle of it anyway. I'm sorry for that. If you ever decide you want to see us again, or you need help, I'm here. If you need anything at all, call me."

"Not anything." Anything except the one thing she wanted.

Footsteps crunched on gravel. Uncle Dean was standing next to them now, his face pensive. Considering. "We could take a vacation. What do you say, Sammy?"

Dad lifted his head, startled. "Vacation? You?"

"Yeah." Uncle Dean's tone was slow, his thoughts churning. "Mom needs some space to deal with all this. So does Gwen. The world is safe for now. There's nothing we need to do, no one in particular we have to save." His eyes landed on Gwen. "We need this. All of us."

"Dean, if we do this, you have to be sure. We can't hunt while Gwen is with us."

Uncle Dean nodded. "I know. We won't. You have my word."

Gwen stepped back so she could see her uncle clearly. "What about the British women? What if someone else tries to break in? What if they find out what I did?"

"They won't." Uncle Dean's voice was a threat and assurance in one. No one would tell. Gwen looked at the three men towering over her. Dad. Uncle Dean. Castiel. No. No one would tell.

"The bunker has been invaded before," Dad said.

"Which is why we know how to defend it now. We got a new door. The best door."

"A nuclear-bomb proof door," Dad muttered.

Uncle Dean grinned. "Exactly. We'll change all the locks and put up new warding. Find a map and pick a direction."

"You're serious." Dad sounded like he couldn't quite believe it.

Uncle Dean nodded. "Winchester family vacation." He turned back to Gwen, a broad smile covering his face. "Where do you want to go? As long as we don't have to fly to get there."

"Fly?" Did they mean in an airplane or did Castiel give rides?

Dad shook his head. "It's not a good idea."

"Well, Abuelo is on a concert tour in Brazil. But that would be an awfully long drive."

"South it is." Uncle Dean wrapped an arm around Gwen and turned her away from the fire, back toward the bunker. "You pack, we'll get things in order. We head out tomorrow. We've got three months until you have to be at school. Is that enough time to get to Brazil and back?"

"You want to drive out of the country?" Dad looked at Uncle Dean as if he had begun speaking Greek. "You want to drive to Brazil for a concert?"

"We've driven further for less."

"No, Dean! No we haven't." But Dad didn't sound like the objected to the trip, just surprised that it was Uncle Dean's idea.

Driving off into the sunset with her father, her uncle, her grandmother, and their guardian angel. Could it be true?

Gwen glanced back at the fire crackling behind them. Could she ever be free of what had happened?

One way or the other, she would find her way. With her family.

o0o

Lyrics from Pompeii by Bastille, Nobody Knows by the Lumineers, Blood on my Name by Brothers Bright, Ghosts that we knew by Mumford and Sons.

 **Well, what do you think? I know a lot of folks wanted to see Gwen hunt, but that was never in the plan. She is stubborn enough to live a normal life while being related to hunters.**

 **Please review!**

 **EXTRA NOTE:**

 **I write for reviews. So. What do you want to read next? There are three options.**

 **1\. An AU where Jess survives the fire. Sam tires to leave her behind but she finds him, learns about hunting, and determines to stop Yellow Eyes plan so she can have her life and her boyfriend back.**

 **2\. Wee!Chester story, Sam is 12 and wants to run away from home, but knows his family will find him again. A witch senses Sam's demon-blood power and wants to keep him for herself, so helps Sam run away by giving him a spell that will make John and Dean forget Sam ever existed.**

 **3\. Short story sequel to Stowaway where we see what happened over that summer vacation. Will include Latin American Men of Letters, and Gwen's abuelo Toni.**

 **I tried to set up a poll on my profile, but its not working. Let me know what you are interested in reading in the reviews or in a PM. Thanks!**


	28. End

**On the Road Again**

The road stretched out before Dean, black asphalt gleaming in the morning sun. The road was smooth, no dents or potholes. The yellow lines flicked past, blurring together as the Impala carried them forward. Dean had driven almost every day of his life. He could only remember a handful of times he had gone from sunrise to sunset without spending some time in his Baby. He knew the road, and he knew his car. They had grown up and hit middle-age together, and there was nothing they had not been through.

So Dean had thought until today. Today, the road felt different. Cars whipped by them, more ad more as the road moved closer toward the city. This was no back road or country drive. This was the interstate, something Dean avoided whenever possible.

Unfortunately, it was the best route to Bowling Green, the place where Gwen would spend the next four years of her life attending college. Dean looked into the rearview mirror, but he could not see Gwen there. Only stacks of stuff: furniture, books, boxes of clothes and stereo equipment. Dean switched his gaze to the side mirror.

Gwen was right behind them, where she had promised to stay, cruising on her bike with Mary perched at her back.

The Winchester women. It still amazed Dean that they were there at all.

The Impala was loaded down to the max, straining the struts and forcing Dean to keep her at a low speed. She couldn't maneuver. She didn't need to maneuver. There was no danger here. There had been no danger for the past three months.

The past three months had been a whirlwind of new sights, new people, and raw emotions. Gwen had nearly broken down on them once. So had Mom. So had Baby. For a little while, Dean wondered if he would loose one or both of them. Not to death, but to the grief and guilt they both carried. But they had pulled through, helped each other, and come out with a bond that wasn't going to break easy.

The Winchesters were a family again, and they were about to part ways.

"Dean!" Sam reached for the steering wheel, and Dean batted his hand away. A bright orange U-Haul honked loudly, narrowly missing their bumper.

"I see it!"

"Keep your eyes on the traffic!"

"I don't like traffic! This is why we don't take the interstate."

"This is where the map says to go." Sam held up his computer screen. Dean refused to look.

"You want my eyes on the traffic?"

"Just, don't miss our turn."

 _Honk! Honk_! Gwen's bike darted in front of them with a bold toot on her horn. Mary waved, laughing as they passed the lumbering Chevy.

"Where is she going?" Dean growled. The bike slipped through gaps in traffic where the Impala couldn't even try to follow, and disappeared down the exit ramp.

"She's going to get the keys to her room so that when he finally get there, we'll be ready to unload.." Sam pulled a protein bar from his road food stash and slapped it into Dean's hand. "What's got you crabby?"

"Nothing." Dean set the protein bar aside to focus on college move-in-day traffic.

College. Gwen was going to college. It was what they all wanted from the start. But the idea of college came with memories Dean hated. Memories of a dark night, a fierce fight, and sitting alone for the first time in his life wondering if he would ever see his brother or his father again.

Sam had hitchhiked his way to California alone, and he couldn't be happier to deliver his own daughter safely to her apartment door. But once the car was unloaded and the day was done, Dean would drive away alone.

No, not alone. His brother would be with him. And Gwen wouldn't be alone either. Mary was going to stay with her. The money they had earned from the sale of the antique records in the bunker meant that neither Gwen nor Mary would have to work. Gwen could enjoy college, and Mary had a second chance at being normal.

Gwen was waiting for them at the curb. The sign posted said No Parking in big red letters, but cars up and down the street were stopped with their emergency flashers on. Apparently, college move-in-day meant most traffic rules were suspended.

It didn't take long to unload the Impala. Within an hour Gwen and Mary stood in their new kitchen surrounded by boxes. Then there were trips to Wal-Mart for last-minute items like light bulbs and curtains. Sam wanted a tour of the campus, and helped Gwen find her first set of text books. They shouldered their way into a crowded bar to wrestle a few burgers from a harried wait staff, and then it was over.

Move-in was done. Their job was over. Dean stood on the curb next to his brother, ready to say good-bye.

The last time a Winchester had gone to college, they hadn't spoken for three years. Dean let the thought slide away. This time, things were going to be different.

"Call when you get home," Mary said. "So I know you made it."

"What, am I sixteen?" Dean asked. No one had told him to call when he got home before.

"Just do it." Mary's tone was firm. "Or I'll send the Lebanon police to check on you."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You'll be here for Thanksgiving." Gwen said.

"Yes."

"And Jody's for Christmas," Sam added. "She insisted."

There were hugs, there may have been a tear or two, and then Dean was driving back out of town. There was no traffic, and the Impala felt feather-light under the wheel.

Back on the road. Back to the hunt. He had his brother at his side. Everything was the same as it had always been.

Yet everything was different.

Dean smiled and settled in for the drive.

 **END**

 **I hope you enjoyed the story. Thank you for reading. Don't forget to review!**


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